


Twice Bound

by kenmaxwell



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, F/F, Family, Hair-pulling, Interracial Relationship, Masturbation, No Lesbians Die, Religion, Romance, Slice of Life, Spanking, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 54,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmaxwell/pseuds/kenmaxwell
Summary: Safiya Alfarsi is a recent art school graduate from Rutgers working at a half-stationary, half-graphic design company in Verona, NJ, looking for a bit of excitement in her life.Marion Decampe is the proprietor of a small furniture store in Livingston, NJ, trying to lead a normal life, all the while building her empire.The two meet when Marion wants to employ Safiya's talents to hype her store. What will happen? How will their relationship unfold? How will Safiya's religion and Marion's ambitions affect it? Tune in to find out!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is my first major, original work. It was a short story I started in February of 2016 (?) that blossomed into this monster. I've touted it as an antithesis to 50 Shades of Grey. Honestly, updates past chapter 8 will be sporadic, since I'm a fucking perfectionist, but they will come!
> 
> A few notes:
> 
> The parentheses mean the characters are speaking in a different language, usually Persian. 
> 
> Someone will get hit in the head with a frying pan. Not gonna say who.

June 8: Safiya

Mama has always told me that the path to success is just that--a path. You don't start off being big right away, you start small and work your way up. If that's the case, why do I feel like such a failure right now? A tiny web designing/stationary company (Don't ask, I don't know either) in a previously unused office space with technology that was advanced two years ago? This is as small as it gets, I feel. Still, I suppose I can't complain. I make a reasonable amount of money, my coworkers are alright, I get a lot of experience from being a part of crafting our catalog and, occasional feeling of failure notwithstanding, I feel like I'm generally in a nice stable spot for a recent graduate, for now at least. The only problem is--  
"Safiya! I've got another job for ya! I think it’ll be great." My manager, Megan Park, shouts to me from across the office.

“Ugh…sure, Megan. What’s up?”

Megan hands me a folder with the word "notebook" on it.

“I’ve been thinking of expanding our notebook collection. Check this out…”

I pull a couple pages out of the folder she gave me and it's...a sketchbook? But...

"Meg, we already have sketchbooks. We started them late last year, remember?"

"No, no! This is a notebook!"  
I stare at the concept art. It's just a crude drawing of a closed notebook and then another of the notebook opened up to reveal completely blank pages.  
“I’m…not sure what you mean by ‘notebook’; this has no lines. It’s basically a sketchbook. What are we getting at?”  
“What we’re getting at is that it affords the user more freedom with taking notes!”  
I shake my head and sigh. “But…but the lines are there to keep the notes organized, keep them in order! If they’re in a hurry they might end up writing over the last notes! Look, let’s just call this a sketchbook and call it a day, yeah? It’ll just be another part of the sketchbook collection.”  
“Nahhhh, we have enough sketchbooks! We’ll call this one ‘Controlled Chaos’! Now work your magic!”  
“Controlled Chaos”, she says, well I’ll show you uncontrolled chaos in a minute…

2 hours later, after a long internal scream, my shift ends, and I fall out the door of the office, with my assistant manager and carpool buddy Lauren Nuñez following close behind me. She claps me on the shoulder. “Look at it this way, Safiya: There’s plenty of hipsters in Jersey who will buy that thing. That’s pretty much the type of person who buys from us anyway, right? Push comes to shove, I’ll get Megan to pull it.”  
“Yeah…yeah, you’re right. We do mostly sell to hipsters, don’t we? I just hope she knows what to do after uncool becomes truly uncool…”  
After I drop Lauren off at her house, I decide to visit my parents at their grocery store near my apartment.

("Mama? Papa? It's me. I just left work.")

My mother appears from the back room, runs towards me and kisses my cheek. ("Safiya! What a surprise! How was work?")

("...It was alright. Had a last minute project to do before I left. It was...interesting. How's business here?")

("We got a new shipment of carp today, and it's the best I've ever seen! You should see their scales, Safi!")

I think about whether the positives of working there really outweigh the negatives, if Megan's going to be asking me to do such pointless projects on a regular basis. Though, it's not like everyone else expects me to do what she says without question, and I don't. I just feel like she's just gonna do whatever the hell she wants, regardless of whether or not I say anything. I stare at the ceiling and silently pray that something will happen to get her to actually think about what she's doing. Surely Allah will listen to me...

June 8: Marion

"Hey, Mama," I sigh, closing the door to my childhood home. My mother looks up from her newspaper.

"How's my baby girl?? How was work today?" she coos, taking my face into her hands and kissing my cheek once I approach the kitchen table. "Fine, I guess."

"Mmhm..."  
It's not dismissal, but skepticism. Mama isn't satisfied with "fine". Despite her jet setting for about as long as I can remember, buying and selling houses all along the East Coast, she's always tried so hard to be there for me and Dad, and so she's really become in tune with my feelings. I express annoyance sometimes, but I am truly grateful for her perceptiveness.

"Come on, tell me what's wrong."

"Oh, alright. It's just...I'm conflicted." I'm not sure if that's the exact word I'm looking for, but it certainly comes close.

"About what?"

"About what I should do to get DD out there. I feel like I've hit a wall in terms of public opinion."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I want to bring in new clientele. The customers I have are great, but most of 'em are elderly locals and, honestly, ain't got long to stay here. I need a way to update Decampe Décor without alienating the customers I have now."

"Hmm...well, think about the age we live in. I think what you need is to get you a website. Something simple and easy to navigate but modern and fresh."

"I think you're right. But how do I do that without devolving into deranged memetic humor?" My mother snickers.

"Honestly, find a company that can help you. They would know about this kinda stuff. I think there's one in Verona that's pretty good that's called...Designonary or something."

"Designonary? The hell kinda name is that??" I quickly open my laptop and look these people up:

"'Designonary, since 2011. Verona, NJ. Design and stationary. 4.5 stars.' Well...that's a really weird combination, but I'll take a crack at it." I find their email address and shoot them a message. We shall see what we shall see...

June 9, 3:30p: Safiya

After lunch, Megan calls us into the meeting room to discuss a new business venture. What's next? Websites for dogs? Ghost cards? As I explore the possibilities, she bounds into the room.

"Afternoon, all! First of all, I wanted to thank Safiya for her amazing work on the notebooks yesterday. Way to do good for the company!"

She claps rapidly. Everyone sporadically claps as they exchange slightly confused looks.

"Now, I have a great bit of news to share with you: I got an email last night from the CEO of a company that wants to employ our services!"

"Um, Megan, you sure it's not one of those "Nigerian Prince" emails?" John Kobayashi asks. I know he's only half-joking because Megan has a tendency to click on strange links at work. Apparently she has learned nothing from the 90s.

"Hah! Good one, John! Actually, no. But close. It's from a furniture company whose founder said she needed a fresh image. She's here with me now to discuss it with you all. Please welcome the founder and CEO of Decampe Décor, Marion Decampe!"

Marion enters with a confident yet natural stride and I internally note her dark complexion and short hair pulled back in a ponytail. "But close," huh? Real classy, Meg...

Marion side-eyes Megan for a moment before continuing. "Er...thank you, Ms. Park. As she has explained to you all, yes, I am looking to update the image of my young company, and I believe that this establishment is the best place to accomplish my goal. I'd like to start with a proper website, and need an associate of yours to help me do it. Do you think--?"

"Of course! My first pick is obviously Safiya Alfarsi!" I almost visibly flinch. "She's always so reliable! Why just the other day, she...um..."

I shake my head at her. I’m not too keen on being known for lineless “notebooks”. Miraculously, Megan understands.

"She...did something that needed to be done in a short amount of time and she did it well, so I feel she would be a great asset to your project." I slowly let out a sigh of relief. Hopefully Marion isn't the prying type.

"Er...yes. It'll be a pleasure to work closely with you, Ms. Decampe."

"Excellent. I'll take your word for it then. I'd like to get started as soon as possible, if that's alright?"

"Sure, we can start right away! I could let you use my computer for it. As you said, we can start by creating a basic site under your name and then go from there."

Megan loudly claps her hands together. "Alright! Sounds like you guys have a plan! I'll leave you to it!" And then she just...leaves. Literally, bounds out the door without concluding the meeting, really. We are all silent for a moment, then decide to follow suit.

"Your manager is certainly...excitable," Marion tells me as we head towards my desk back in the main office. "Eh heh heh...yeah. She's kept this company running, though, so it must be working. I guess she just really knows our audience," I say, grabbing an extra chair and a piece of paper and pencil. Marion smiles as I sit in my own chair and start scribbling a draft of the prospective web page. "Now, first of all, we'll need to--"

"Um...if it's no trouble, do you think I could sit in your chair? I'd like to try to design the site myself with your guidance."

"Oh, of course!" We switch seats. "So I was saying, first we need to think about what kind of template you would like for the site itself. What did you have in mind?"

"Hmm...I did tell my mother I wanted something fresh, but something that won't alienate my older customers. My exact words were 'deranged memetic humor,' in fact." We both laugh. She doesn't seem like the pandering type. "I want to start attracting the college-bound crowd." She's looking straight at me while saying all this. In all the excitement from the meeting, I'm just now realizing that this woman is quite attractive. I'm trying to focus on her words rather than her cheeks.

"Fresh, but still familiar, got it. In that case, I would recommend something like what we've called the Flashmint 4782 design." I click to a template with a black, white and grey background. "It's simple, easy to navigate, and it isn't at all hard on the eyes. What do you think?"

Her eyes light up. Her gorgeous, brown eyes--cut that out, Safiya! "...I love it. Very indicative of the interior of my store."

"Great, so we're going with this then, Ms. Decampe?"

"Of course!"

We spend the next hour there, placing links and pictures, soon lapsing into what kinds of things we do as part of our job. She becomes more attractive as I learn more about her. Goal oriented, but bubbly all at once...

We have completed the web site. It's professional, but still inviting. As Marion saves the site and closes the tab, I notice that it's closing time. We leave together.

"Hah...you were a huge help today, Ms. Alfarsi. I feel like we got a lot done!" She says, stretching upward.

"Me too! I'm glad we were able to help you today, Ms. Decampe. Perhaps we'll do business in the future?"

"Oh, yes. I'll definitely be using your talents again." “Your” as in the company, or “your” as in me, specifically--you stop that! "Oh! One more thing..." She pulls out a card. "This is the address to Decampe Décor, in Livingston. I don't know how far away it is from you, but you could come to buy furniture, or just look around!"

I look at the card. Decampe Décor, Livingston, new and used furniture. That's about 15 minutes from where I live. Not a huge hump. "I think I will."

"Thanks so much! I'll see you--er...have a good night!" We shake hands.  
"Ah...thanks, you too!"  
"I'll see you"? She expects to see me again? Nah, it's probably just what she usually says.


	2. Chapter 2

June 11: Safiya

I feel like I accomplished a lot in the past week, with how I handled Megan and that Decampe lady. This would be a day for me to lie around and watch some Squidbillies, but...for whatever reason I feel like actually doing something today. I grab my phone from my bed stand and shoot Lauren a text.

10:35 am  
_Hey Lauren, u up?_

10:37 am  
_I just showered. What's up? :)_

10:38 am  
_U know that Marion girl I helped with a website yesterday? She gave me the address to her store in Livingston. It's like 15 minutes away by car, and I was thinking about going. Did u wanna come w/me?_

10:40 am  
_Sure! I needed to add something to my living room anyway. Should I meet you there or did you wanna go together?_

10:41 am  
_Let's go together. Does 11 sound good?_

10:42 am  
_Perfect! I'll be right over!_

I've never known Lauren to be late. She shows up at my house right at 11:00 and we take the 15 minute drive to Livingston. When we take a break from gossip during the trip, I think: There wouldn't be any harm in asking to hang out, would there? I mean, it's not like her business is all that big yet; she's still enough of a regular person to do friend stuff with regular people, right? Yeah! I'm gonna do it! The worst I can expect is she'll say no...

When we get there I'm surprised by how in vogue it is. The lighting is sparse but warm, with a few skylights in the ceiling. There's all sorts of modern art on the walls and the furniture is such that it looks like multiple living rooms and dining rooms in one space. Marion really knows how to put together a store! I just wonder if she's here...

June 11: Marion

"I'll see you"? Real subtle, Marion! But my GOD if it wasn't already obvious. Tech savvy *and* sweet? I'll be damned if I haven't hit the jackpot! Hopefully I didn't make myself even more obvious by inviting her to the store. There's a chance that she won't even--ahh, fuck, she's here. I hide in my office.

"This is awful fancy for a furniture store!" It's her. Her accent is just thick enough to recognize it. I take a peek from my door. She's as cute as I remember. Olive eyes, full nose, pretty purple scarf around her...wait, that wasn't there when I...is that a hijab? Oh, goddammit! She's Muslima! There's no point now! Still, business is business. Just try not to cry...

"Hi, welcome to Decampe Décor! Is there anything I can help you ladies with?" They turn towards me and Safiya's eyes brighten. Oh, what they do to me already...

She turns around and smiles. "Oh! Miss Decampe! I didn't expect you to be here."

"Yes, this is the only location I have right now, but I do have plans to expand in the future!" If the money god so wills it.

"I'm sure you will! I'm already drawn in by the aesthetic...oh, right, we were actually here to look for something for my friend's house. She has sort of an art deco style in her living room. Do you think you have something like that here?"

"Hm...I believe so. Follow me please." I lead them towards a corner of the store where I hang a bunch of wall decorations. Safiya's friend immediately gravitates towards a numberless wall clock.

"Oh my goodness, I love this! It'll look perfect above my couch! How much did you want for it?" She turns it all around, looking for a price tag.

"It goes for about 35 dollars—“

"Deal!" She exclaims, pulling out her wallet and handing me two twenties before bolting out the door with the clock held protectively against her chest, narrowly avoiding knocking over a square table lamp.

"Wow...she's...very passionate about that clock," I say.

"That's an understatement. Lauren will go mad for anything she really loves. I've worked with and known her long enough to figure that out. But thanks so much for helping her find what she needed!"

"No problem! To be honest, that clock used to be like 80 bucks at Pier 1 Imports, but I have a partnership with them that let me knock it down to about half. I'd like to think I'm a pretty good haggler," I say, preening and tugging slightly on my jacket.

"You really are!" I puff up a little bit inside. No idea why, if she's so unattainable. I bring myself back down before asking, "Is there anything you yourself wanted help with, Miss Alfarsi?"

"Actually, there is...and it's not about furniture." Wait...what? What's happening? Oh my god she's asking me out after all is this really happening I cna't bleive she's gnona aks m eou t...!!!

"You seemed very nice yesterday, and I enjoyed talking to you and working with you, so...did you want to, maybe...get to know each other a bit more? I mean I understand if you can't or don't want to! I'm just offering because I'd like to know more about you, perhaps?"

Oh. Well, I suppose friendship is the next best thing. Returning to the matter at hand, I see her flinch ever so slightly, as if I'm going to say no on the spot. If she only knew...

"Of course!" I reply, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "There's a nice quiet cafe down the street from here that serves excellent lattes. I can close up the shop for about a half hour and we could go now--"

She waves her hands in front of her. "Oh, no, you don't have to do that! I can wait until you close up shop for the day! Then we won't have to worry about losing track of time." Aww, but I wanted to go now! Quit whining, Marion! And don't make that face! You're making it too easy for her to read your disappointment. Still, such a sweet girl. "Well...I usually lock up at 5:00 on Saturdays. We can go then, since the cafe is open pretty late."

"Great! I'll go home to drop my friend off and change into something more public worthy. Honestly, I just sorta threw this on," She says, motioning to her Rutgers hoodie and grey knee-length shorts.

"But what you're wearing looks so c--er, is fine. What you're wearing is fine."

"Mm, nah. I have a favorite outfit for stuff like this, anyway. I'll hang out at home for a while and change into that. Should we just meet up right after 5:00, then?"

"Sure, that sounds good. I'll see you!" No room for a Freudian slip this time! Yes!

"Of course! I'll see you tonight, Miss Decampe!" She waves to me and walks out the door. I walk towards the cashier and put in the 40 dollars, thinking about how I should present myself. Is it too early to let her see what my hair really looks like? Beyond that, even if she is interested in me, how will she react to...?

June 11, 4:55: Safiya

I've changed into my favorite cardigan and my prettiest matching hijab. Marion didn't react negatively to the other one so I guess it's okay to wear it? But I can't believe she actually wants to socialize with me! Though, I don't know if I should expect much, honestly. She's got so much going for her already and I'm just a girl who gets paid to make pretty notebooks and websites and stuff. I’m pretty sure she has more interesting--

"Miss Alfarsi!" I hear Marion calling to me from my left. Her hair seems...bigger. Way curlier than I remember.

"Oh, Miss Decampe, you made it!" I expected her to be at least a bit late, but she's 5 minutes early.

"Yeah, no one was gonna come in anyway, so I just closed up early. Shall we go in?"

"Sure!" We enter the cafe and it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen. Little white tables with two chairs apiece, three huge couches and a small but very neatly put together menu up front.

"Hey, Marion! The usual?" A girl behind the counter shouts to Marion. I guess she's well known in this neighborhood. "Hey, Carrie. Yeah, mocha latte."

"Who's yer friend?"

"Oh, this is Safiya Alfarsi. She's from that design company I told you about." Oh boy. I have a feeling I might start being recognizable.

"Um...hi. I'd like an iced mocha latte, please..."

"Comin' up!" She turns to make our drinks. "That's Carrie. She takes some getting used to, but she's a keeper. Most vibrant person I know, and she makes the best lattes."

I'm trying to come up with some way to start the conversation without being awkward, but to my surprise, she starts talking first: "So have you been in the business for a while?"

I blink twice. "Ah...er, kind of. I've been at Designonary for about a year. It's sort of the first step on my art career."

"But you were so good at helping me do my web page! How did you pick it up so quickly?"

"I just sort of dabbled with it in college; my friends and classmates would ask me to help them with their blogs and I'd make sites and stuff for them."

"Where did you go?"

"Rutgers. I won a bunch of scholarships for Muslim students and did some work study during. Designonary picked me up about three months after graduation even though I'd sent my portfolio there just for fun along with a bunch of other web design companies. I'd planned to work at my parents' grocery store in our neighborhood after I got home; I didn't think I'd get any interviews so soon."

"Still, it's amazing that you're able to do what you're good at for a living. I think that's the best thing."

I avert my eyes. "Oh, thank you! I do hope to have greater responsibilities and move upwards in the future, though."

"Of course. That's what most people want to do. I really think you could do it, you know? You have a real talent."

Hopefully I'm not blushing too hard. "What about you?"

"Me? I went to Penn State, Smeal College of Business. It taught me most of what I needed to know to be a competent entrepreneur. Hence the booming business you see down the street," She says, motioning towards the direction of the store. We both giggle.

Minutes turn to hours as the conversation turns from jobs, to school, to personal life. Somehow we have moved to the biggest couch, near the back corner. We've ordered two more drinks and started talking about our respective childhoods.

"So my dad is a tenured professor at the school I went to, and has been for as long as I've been around, but he’s always called at least once every day, so I don't have abandonment issues. And thanks to the godsend that is Skype, I see his face a lot more often than I used to."

"That's so great! It seems your parents have been busy your entire life, huh?"

"Yeah, always running around, making names for themselves, and raising a child, all at once. I guess that's where I get it from, heh."

  
"My parents are Iranian immigrants. They own a grocery store in my town. My upbringing was pretty liberal by Muslim standards.”

  
“How so?”

  
“Well, you saw me wearing shorts earlier today, right? I don’t think I know very many hijabi who own a pair of capris, even.”

  
“Of course not, nobody wears capris anymore!”

  
“You know what I mean. Anyway, I didn't wanna move too far away from them after college, 'cause they're in their mid-50s and starting to slow down a bit. They insisted that I do what I want, so I'm at Designonary.”

  
"Oh, okay! I meant to ask, how's that going for you?"

  
"Well...it's...okay..." I stammer. You know what? No, fuck it, it's not like Megan is here.

  
“Look, can…can I be frank?”

  
“It’s probably better if you were.”

  
"I'll level with you, sometimes it's downright miserable. Like, you know that story she was about to tell you when you showed up in the office yesterday? The day before that, she asked me to design a notebook with no lines."

  
"…That’s a sketchbook.”

  
"That’s what I said! I told her it was just gonna be a huge stupid mess, but she just ignored me and told me to ‘work my magic’. Her words."

  
"Wooooow, really?” Marion says, making a face.

  
"I know! It's like she doesn't want to listen to reason! She has all these nonsensical and sometimes completely tasteless special projects, and then dumps them on me just because I told her I did it as a hobby at the interview! I know she's trying to set us apart from other companies, but you can't just do whatever the hell you want just so you can be different!"

  
"She sounds like a great boss," she says, rolling her eyes.

  
"Ain’t she the best?! She doesn't plan anything, she doesn't tell anyone about her schemes for the company until she wants them to somehow appear out of thin air, and when she does it's something that we all know we can’t pull off unvetted! We only have a catalog because the girl I was with earlier is the assistant manager! Honestly, the most sensible thing she's done of her own initiative is...is this thing with you. I guess she just really wanted to impress you since you were the first business to commission us for anything."

"Well, I'm glad you think our work together was sensible. I wanna do more with you guys in the future, advertising, gift cards, you know?"

"Oh, sure! I'm pretty sure we have the equipment. Hopefully Megan doesn't scare you away."

The time has yet again gotten away from us, and we leave the shop just as it closes for the night.

"I had fun tonight!" I say, facing her.

"So did I. Um...when can I see you again?"

I feel myself blush. "Wha...? Er, I mean...well, I usually get off work at around 5:30 during the week. I don't do much after that, besides going to see my parents sometimes. If you would like to hang out more in the future, I'm definitely willing."

Her eyes brighten. "Oh, definitely! I know a couple places we can go on weeknights and weekends. Great places to make friends, try new things, pretty much do whatever.

"Oh good! Then, I'll see you later, Miss De--"

"Please, call me Marion." We're already on a first name basis? I have good feelings about this woman.

"Oh! Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, Marion! And I guess you may as well call me Safiya from now on!" I write my phone number on the receipt from the store, since I already have hers.

I drive home to Madison, thinking about whether I was wrong about Marion after all. She seems level-headed, sweet, and attentive. Still, she must go to those places all the time with super important locals. I hope I don't bore her...

June 12, 12:30a: Marion

And then we'll go to the zoo and then we'll go to the museum and then we'll go to Yats and then we'll go to Sweet Basil and then we'll go to the gazebo and aaaaagggghhhh I can't wait to hang out with this girl!!

Wait, calm down, Marion. You literally just met her; don't be getting all hyper yet. Just show her that you’re not into your own hype. Act normal.

Heh, "normal". Not really a concept for people like me.


	3. Chapter 3

June 12, 9:00p: Safiya

 

We had friends and family over after Salah for Iftar, and my mom makes a huge plate of falafel and naan with my dad's help. It's one of her best dishes, really. After loud conversations about everything under the sun from politics to the proper way to eat a roast chicken, everyone leaves, and I rise to help my mom wash the dishes. She notices the bounce in my step and says:

 

"Well, you're energetic today! Did something good happen?"

 

"It did, Mama. I made a new friend yesterday. That Marion girl I told you about with the furniture store? She wants to hang out with me!"

 

"Oh, that's wonderful! You need to get out of the house more often, anyway, my dear."

 

"But Mama, I do get out of the house."

 

"I mean, for things other than work and to buy more snacks."

 

I roll my eyes. "Anyway, she's a professional businesswoman, so I really need to be careful about what I suggest. No boring stuff. Nothing basic."

 

"If she's that worried about what's downstairs, she's no good!"

 

"Basic, Mama, not basements. It means boring or cliché`. Meaning we can't go to McDonalds or anything like that. We gotta go to classy places, you know? But first I have to really think about--"

 

My phone buzzes.  "Gimme a minute. Yeah? Hey, Marion! Yeah, I'm at my parents' house for dinner. You did? Where? Ohhh, I loved Turtle Back as a kid! I would beg my parents to take me all the time, but I don't think I've been since I left high school, even. When did you wanna go? Ohhh, that’s right, the store... I would love to go, but I'd need to figure some things out with my mother. I'll get back with you. Bye!"

 

I hang up, take a deep breath and turn back to my mother. "Mama, Marion wants to go to the zoo with me. She only has Saturday evenings and Sundays off, and I know how important it is to you that I come to dinner on Sundays--"

 

"My dear Safi, nothing is more important to me than your happiness. Go ahead to Turtle Back with her. But you must promise me that you'll come at least half the month, if you decide to go with her more often."

 

I hug my mother as tightly as I can. "Oh thank you, Mama! Thank you! I promise if this works out I'll remember to do what you ask!"

 

I call Marion back to tell her that I can go, and we agree on a meeting time, around noon. I wonder if it's changed at all...

 

June 17, 2:00p

 

Back at work, I'm in a very good mood. The zoo trip with Marion is 2 days away, but I'm still excited. I get to go to one of my favorite places with a new person! Honestly, I don't think anything could spoil--

 

"Heyyyyyyy, Safiya! My favorite!" Megan yells loudly from across the main office, jarring me from my concentration. I spoke too soon. "Urk...hey, Megan. What'd you need?"

 

"So, y'know those super fancy fliers I emailed you to ask you to design last Thursday that I said I needed for Friday?"

 

"Yeah, the ones about the new series of Get Well cards? I've finally gotten started on the wording. What about 'em?"

 

"Yeaaaahhh, I kinda need them early. Like today," she says, placing a hand behind her head and averting her eyes.

 

"Um...I'm sorry? You need them _today?_ What for?" I blink, dumbstruck.

 

"Well, there's a huge crowd outside looking at a huge pipe for whatever reason, and I think I saw an ambulance, so I feel like this is a great time to plug!" That she said this with no hesitation concerns me greatly.

 

"Seriously? Meg, someone could've gotten hurt out there, and you're thinking about advertising?" I tangle my hands through my hair, suddenly feeling drained of any form of motivation, at the worst time.

 

"Think of it this way: Now they know where to get cheap cards instead of shelling out money at Hallmark or something! They should be out there for at least an hour more, so get to it! "

 

"But that's still in poor--you know what, never mind. I'll see what I can do." It's not like she's gonna listen to me.

 

"Great! That's why you're my favorite! Ciao!" She says loudly enough for the office to hear. Everyone else turns to look at me and I laugh nervously.

 

So within the next ten minutes or so I throw together an advertisement that I think resembles English, print out about 15 copies and pitch it to Megan: “Laughter is The Best Medicine! Check Out Our Cards! "Okay, this is what I came up with. But seriously, you don't think we could maybe save these for a less sensitive time? 'Cause this honestly looks really bad--"

"Nonsense! It looks great! People will love it!"

"No, like I said, it's the timing of the thing...listen, if you have to do this, at least get someone else to pass them out, 'cause I don't feel good doing it at all."

“Hey, just for you, I will. Lauren! I have an errand for you~!” Wait, no--!!

About 30 minutes later, Lauren comes back from her “errand”, glaring daggers, machetes and switchblades at me. “’A Manhole a Day Gives the Doctor Her Pay?’ Really?”

I shrug. “It was the first thing I thought of! Don’t look at me like that.”

She clucks her tongue. “Still really tactless. I maybe the underboss, but you need to grow a spine, Safi.”

I hang my head. “I know…I need to woman up by like, a lot. Megan needs to really think about her actions, but I have to stand up to her too. That stupid smile of hers makes it impossible to say no. Maybe if I catch a snake or something it’ll help me grow some lady balls.”                                                                      

 

June 19, 12:00: West Orange

I leave straight after Salah to drive the 24 minutes to Turtle Back Zoo, where Marion is waiting for me at the gate.

“Have you been to Turtle Back before, Marion?”

“Nope, never. My parents never found staring at animals while they eat all that interesting.”

“They do more than that, silly! At least here you get to watch them without risking getting eaten up by fire ants or squashed by giant cacti.”

We buy our tickets and head for the first enclosure we see, the lions.

“You know, Circle of Life always used to get stuck in my head whenever I went on field trips here in fifth grade. I don’t imagine a lion’s life is anywhere near as dramatic.”

“Hey, I’d say tearing a gazelle’s throat open on a regular basis is pretty dramatic! And I like to have a good fuck after lunch.”

Wait, what? Is she getting fresh? Oh, _please_ be getting fresh. “What are you--?”

Marion points to her right. I follow her finger. “Oh.”

We seem to have happened upon this lioness in her mating season, as she engages in sex with a nearby lion with a huge mane. Or rather, sits there while her mate climbs on top of her and absentmindedly looks around at the hairless monkeys staring and pointing at them. Much like human sex, I’ve come to find, with only slightly less movement. The presence of the hairless monkeys depends on the context.

“Well, according to this pamphlet they might do this 20 to 40 times today. I’m not too keen on watching lions fuck, royal as they may be. Are you?”

“Not really, no. It feels pervy.”

In the rainforest enclosure, we get to see a couple of macaws and leopards. Marion doesn’t enjoy it much because the humidity of the area makes her hair misbehave.

She shakes her hair out and runs her fingers through it. “I really hope none of them birds took a shit in my hair. This took years of hard work!”

“It doesn’t look that much different, honestly.”

“Even so…do you think that’d be grounds to take legal action?  It could really help give DD a boost.”

“Pfftha! Spoken like a true businesswoman!”

Next we go see the farm animals. The smell hits me before we even see the fences. It’s at once nostalgic and something I’d like to forget.

“I’ve always loved and hated this part of the zoo. Loved it because the sheep and pigs are so cute, but hated it because…well,” I groan through a pinched nose.

“Why are they so close together?! That just makes it worse! I guess the pigs being relatively clean animals don’t mean much.”

“I remember years ago I thought about why my religion doesn’t eat pork, and I found a forum that said not only is it because they eat shit, apparently, but also because, and this is a direct quote, they ‘have a pusshole in their huff’.”

“Oh, for God’s sake…you’ll find me hard pressed to drag anyone for their religious beliefs, but that’s just stupid.”

“No, I agree! But, that’s just one more reason to dislike them!”

“What do you mean?”

“I like straightforward people. I can’t be around people or animals who pussyfoot all the time!”

Marion suddenly bursts into laughter, and gasps, “That is so dumb and so brilliant all at once, Safiya, I cannot with you!” Then I hear and feel a deep rumble coming from my stomach. I really hate Ramadan sometimes. Hopefully Marion didn’t hear that.

“Oog…Marion, can we stop at that food stand over there?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

I order a hamburger with everything on it, because I am about to pass out. Allah will forgive me. Marion orders pulled pork and is about to take a bite when…

“Oh. Er…” She turns to the side and takes a bite before returning to the upright position to talk to me. I giggle as she continues to do this all through lunch.

 

The zoo built a new observation dome under the dolphin pool, so we watch the 1:30 show from down there. “I dunno why black people love dolphins so much, but they are majestic creatures, I tell you.”

“Yeah.  I love being able to watch them underwater like this. They’re even prettier up close, mashallah.”

“I know…” I feel her grab my hand.  My breath hitches and I blush a little bit. I wonder if she’s noticed.

“Um, Marion?”

“Huh?” I suppose not, because she looks down at our joined hands and immediately takes hers away. “Oh my gosh, Safiya, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize!”

“…You know what? It’s okay. We can hold hands if you want.”

Marion hesitates, and then rejoins our hands. It feels…nice, like it’s supposed to be there…

 

We happen upon the reptile enclosure, where a zookeeper is showing a multi-colored snake to a group of teenagers. I shrink back as Marion hides behind me. “Uggggh, I can’t stand snakes! Not since I saw Snakes on a Plane!”

“Well don’t look at me! I don’t like them either! I don’t think I’ll ever understand why those ‘snek’ memes are so popular,” I groan, watching the group from afar.

The keeper speaks. “This is a king snake, everyone! Her name is Myra! She’s a constrictor, meaning she uses her whole body to kill her prey. Right now she’s about 3 feet long, but she’ll grow to twice that before her life is over! She’ll eat birds, lizards, even other, more poisonous snakes!”

One kid with long hair asks, “Will she bite, too?”

“Only if she needs to—whoa!”

Suddenly the kid pushes the zookeeper back and I see the frightened snake coil itself tighter around her neck. She frantically looks for the case that the snake was in before giving up, unwinding it from her neck and—

June 19, 2:30p: Marion

“ _Jesus Christ she just threw it on the floor!!”_ I shriek, letting go of Safiya and running towards the wall near the entrance. This is it. This is how I’m gonna die, isn’t it? With a snake biting my face? But there’s so many things I haven’t done! I haven’t tried out Jainism yet! I haven’t gone skinny-dipping! I haven’t…Oh gods, I haven’t told Safiya how I feel! No, Xenu, just let me live through today!

Safiya is stuck in a defensive stance in front of me. The glorified worm is staring blankly at her, flicking its tongue out every so often. She looks up at the keeper.

“So um…aren’t we supposed to catch it in a pillow case or something like that?” She asks in an even tone to avoid spooking it.

“That is one way, but I don’t think we have any handy, and I don’t want to leave you all here…”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t have any other ideas…” What? What is she doing…?

She slowly removes the flower shaped clip holding her hijab together and unwinds it from around her head, before opening it into a large rectangle.

“What the hell you doin’?! You tryna get bit?!” I whisper-scream, my ass still firmly planted against the wall.

“Shush! You’ll scare it!” She hisses back, not moving her head.

 Holding it before the snake, she takes a deep breath, one step…two steps…and then she bundles it head first into the hijab, quickly bunching the ends together and handing it to the zookeeper at arm’s length.  

“Wha? How did you--?” The zookeeper stammers.

“Um, please put Myra back in the cage. I’d like my scarf back so I can wash it.”

“Oh! Right!” The zookeeper puts Safiya’s hijab in the snake’s box and pulls it away, leaving it to stew. “Thank you so much, miss! You have no idea.”

Taking her black cap off, Safiya rounds on the kid that pushed the zookeeper. “Now why on earth would you do that?! That girl could’ve gotten her throat crushed or someone could’ve gotten bitten or God knows what else!”

“Er, sorry. I thought it’d be funny. That was really cool what you did with your scarf though…” The kid says, and smirks slightly. His friend smacks him in the chest.

“Well, you’ve got a sick sense of humor, kid. Come on, Marion, we’ve had enough excitement for today,” she says, after stuffing her hijab and the cap into her purse and taking my hand—ahh!!

Once we’re out the doors, Safiya looks behind her, sees that no one but me is there, and then lets all the air out of her lungs, bringing a hand to her chest, before pulling me towards the aquarium.

I think I’m in love.

In the darkness illuminated only by the huge fish tank, Safiya and I sit on a bench together. Safiya stares at the floor, hunched over. “I don’t know what just happened.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. “You saved me, a bunch of dumb kids and a zookeeper from getting bitten is what you did. And you did it with a scarf. I never expected those kinds of badass heroics from you.”

“Didn’t feel all that brave, honestly. I was _this_ close to shitting my pants,” She whispers so the kids pressed up against the tank won’t hear, and brings her thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart.

“Well, that just makes it even better!” I exclaim.

“You think so? Probably would have made it worse.”

I think about it for a moment. She’s probably right. “Ew. Look, let’s just watch the sharks, okay? I find those far less scary.”

Safiya straightens up and turns her head towards me. She sighs and rests her head against my shoulder, and my heart skips for a minute… “Alright…it’s been a long day. This is a nice way to end it.”

We watch the fish swim by in silence.

 

We leave just as the gate to the zoo closes, after browsing the gift store.

“I had lots of fun today! It was nice to see Turtle Back again. Did you like it?”

“It was pretty nice, other than the snake.”

“Yeah, I never liked the terrarium much, even on field trips.”

I laugh and put my hands behind my back. “Sooooo…theoretically, if we were to do this again, when and where would you like to go next time?”

“Oh! Ummm…there’s this art museum in Newark that I like. We can go next Sunday, if you like; I told my mom I’d be at dinner twice a month if this was a regular thing. I can bring sketchbooks, too, if you want!”

“That’s just fine. Though I don’t know about the sketchbooks. I can’t draw worth a damn.”

“Practice makes perfect! I’ll carry two, just in case. I’ll see you later?”

“Definitely! I’ll text you.”

We wave goodbye and she gets into her blue Honda.

 

June 19, 6:30p: Safiya

My hijab and cap are in the wash, and I’m at home watching my favorite episodes of Twilight Zone when I get a text from one of my cousins who goes to my masjid, Aïda. It just says, “Call me.” So I do.

“I was wondering what was up after you bolted right when we were all leaving. Where did you go?” Not even a hello. It must be serious.

“Oh, I, uh, went to the zoo with a friend right after masjid. You don’t know her, she runs a store in Livingston.”

Long silence. “…Is she Muslim?” 

“…You know what, I’m not sure. I don’t know that she’s religious at all. Why?”

Aïda sighs. “God help us. Safiya, you know what the Prophet, peace be upon him, said about fraternizing with kuffar! 3:118!” She exclaims, referring to the verse in all’Imran warning us about hanging out with non-Muslims.

I blink twice. “Whoa, hey, Aïda, calm down! It’s not like I skipped masjid for her!”

“Yeah, but you’ve already skipped dinner with your family to be with her, and you’ll start skipping Salah if you keep it up! She’s corrupting you, Safi!” She replies, her voice going up an octave. “What is that the Christians say about being ‘unequally yoked’?”

“Wha—we’re not getting married!” I cry.

“Oh God, I hope not.”

“What? Anyway, we haven’t even talked about religion all that much. Plus, I already told my mom this might be a regular thing. She hasn’t tried to de-convert me or anything, nothing has happened! Don’t worry about it, okay? I have better self-control than that.” Of course, I’m not gonna tell her that I ate before Iftar.

“…I worry about your soul, sometimes, cuz. Be careful around her.” She just completely ignored the “self-control” bit, didn’t she? It’s alright, Safiya. Just tell her what she wants to hear.

“Fine. I’ll…I’ll keep an eye on her if it makes you feel better.”

“Please do.” She ends the call.

I don’t know what her deal is. She’s acting like I told her Marion deals drugs or something. Though… I imagine some of us would find that to be in the same vein. Still, I know better than to let one person dictate what I believe. At least, I think I do…


	4. Chapter 4

June 20, 12:05p

At lunchtime, I sit across from Lauren at Slamwich Scratch, recounting yesterday’s adventure with Marion.

“…and I caught a snake with my hijab! Scariest thing I’ve done in my life.”

“Holy shit, dude! And you didn’t get bit?”

I shake my head. “Though I suppose this means I’ll eventually have to woman up like I said I would.”

Lauren laughs. “So I guess you guys had fun?”

“Oh yeah, it was great! But when I got home my cousin called to yell at me like hanging out with Marion is gonna make me start sacrificing goats to Anton LeVay or something.”

“Pffft! Well, have you?”

“No! I don’t even like goats all that much! They smell and they scream sometimes.”

“’Scream’…? Anyway, you’ll be fine. I think you of all people could tell if Marion had bad intentions. Besides, she’s a local business owner, it’s not like she could do anything that sketchy and get away with it easily. But you tell me if she starts acting weird, okay?” Lauren says, pointing at me.

I roll my eyes. “Not you too!”

“I’m not saying stay away from her! But I am saying I’ll kick her ass if she stabs you in the back,” she says, taking a big, vicious bite of her sandwich to punctuate. “I mean, you never know.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

After lunch, Megan meets us at the door with an idea for origami pencils because of course.

4:45pm, June 24: Marion

God, you are just batting .300 with this girl, aren’t you, Marion? Eat pork right in front of her then plaster yourself to a wall and leave her to deal with a snake. Yeah, that’s really shown her what kind of friend you can be.  Well, I suppose I’ll just busy myself with…business things and maintain that hope in the back of my mind that Safiya’s serious about that museum trip, after my performance at the zoo.

In between helping customers find the things they need and ringing them up, I browse the website that Safiya helped me make a couple weeks ago. It’s really helped out with my clientele, and it reminds me of her, so it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to see it.

Of course, with more clientele comes more work. I need to start hiring if I wanna keep my numbers up on Yelp…

I’ve just finished taping a crudely put together Now Hiring sign to my window. It says:

Looking for people with great interpersonal skills and a readiness to help people.

Is that you? Call us at

872.395.7740

Or just come in!

Starting wage: $11.00/hr.

Current capacity: 5

Part-time and full-time available

Right after I’ve finished cutting those little strips for the telephone number and contemplating whether I should get the Designonary people to help me make a better sign, a young redhead girl walks up to me and says, “Um…are-are you hiring?” I look at her, then at the sign, then back at her. “Indeed I am! You have come at a very good time, Miss…er…”

 

“Patterson. Mina Patterson. I came a few days ago to find a couch for my flat?”

 

“Oh yeah, I remember you! You got the yellow loveseat, didn’t you? How do you like it?”

 

“It goes really well with the furniture in my living room. Thank you so much for helping me pick it out!”

 

“Sure! Now, why do you wanna work here, Miss Patterson?”

 

She thinks for a second, then takes a deep breath and says, “Well, I’m coming up on my third year at Rutgers, management with a focus on sales, and I figured I might use my time to build experience, get a taste of what the working world is like, you know? Really try to break out of my---my shell.” She falters at the end, like she had expended more energy than she had expected for that explanation.

 

I nod. “Well, that’s as good a reason as any. I think you’ve picked a good place to start!”

 

It’s obvious the girl’s a bit nervous, so I start a conversation about how important networking is in my world. Mina stares at me intently the whole time, and I can see it soaking in.

 

“Right…do you have any experience with a cash register?”

 

“Um…I’ve used Square-Up before, if that counts?”

 

“That’s perfect! I swear by the Square. It’s on the counter; you can start there for now before I actually have you on the floor, so to speak.”

She immediately gets up and behind the counter, and tries to figure out what to push and when.

 

I walk up to her and say, “Hey, hey, don’t worry about it for now. Right now we should figure out your schedule and next Tuesday you can start. How’s that sound?”

 

She nods. We work out a schedule, and I give her a small tour of the rest of the shop, this month’s living room set, the lamp corner, everything.

 

 

This could mean that I’m on my way up. Or she could make off with all my money, torch the store and leave me ruined. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.

 

June 26, 12:00: Safiya

 

It’s that time again, time for my abandonment of after-masjid meat to meet with Marion instead. I get there first this time, and I see Marion circle the museum at least three times before finally finding a place to park, hair flying all over the place.

 

“Jesus Christ, this state! Okay! Where did you wanna go first?” I try and fail to stifle my laughter. Marion glares at me, then pulls a headband from her purse and pulls her hair back with it. “Hey, it’s a small price to pay for low maintenance locks.”  

 

As we walk through the front door towards the Africa exhibits, I notice the slightly beaten up sketchbook in her hand. “I thought you didn’t want to sketch?”

 

She looks down at it. “Yeah, well, this is from high school, when I fancied myself an artist. I never really finished it, so I imagine this is a good place to restart!”

 

We first happen upon a simply decorated door that, according to the placard, belonged to a Bwiti temple.

 

“He looks like he’s jumping for joy while not giving very many shits about it,” I observe, taking in the figure caught in mid-jump, as well as his nonchalant expression.

 

“I dunno, I think he looks like a bowling pin that grew arms and wanted to try out being an arrow…I wanna draw ‘im,” she declares, walking behind the cushions and laying her sketchbook near the edge, before kneeling down, pencil in hand.

 

I look back at the door, then sit on the cushion next to her, balancing my own sketchbook on my crossed legs. I finish after about 10 minutes, and look back to check on Marion. She adds finishing touches before holding the sketchbook at arms’ length, looking proudly at her work. She shows it to me and…she has given the little man a large penis. Also, she’s drawn a little bow around him, like he’s about to be launched from it. I burst into silent laughter, then recover long enough to say:

 

“Wow, you really took that arrow-for-a-day headcanon and ran with it, didn’t you?”

 

She shrugs, then draws little stars around her well-endowed wannabe arrow-guy.

 

In the American room, there’s a bunch of paintings that drew from European styles at first, but developed their own. One painting I’m drawn to is a picture of what looks to be Manhattan by a guy named John Ault.

 

As I turn my sketchbook sideways and begin sketching, I tell Marion, “I like this one. It reminds me of 90s Batman.”

 

“Pfft, probably the same kind of crime as Gotham, too,” she scoffs, taking her same position to draw.

 

“Definitely the same kind of smog.”

 

1:30 pm: Marion

We come upon the part of the museum dedicated to Asian art. “Gosh, I just love this part of the museum. These pieces and statues have so much personality in them! This girl is one of my favorites,” Safiya gushes, fast walking towards a statue standing crookedly on one leg. It’s wearing nothing except a skirt made of beads, connected to an ornate necklace, as well a jewel-encrusted headdress, with what look to be a boar’s head hiding behind it. It looks really pissed off. I ask her, “Is there any reason she looks so mad?”

 

Safiya turns to me. “Actually, yeah, it’s not just a stylistic choice. This is Vajravārāhī, the wrathful form of a powerful female yoga master called Vajrayoginī, who presides over death and rebirth, as well as turning daily experiences into a means for spiritual enlightenment. This time around she’s basically fused with something called a heraka, a wrathful god that maintains a badass demeanor to protect mortal beings, and in most of her depictions in this form, she’s like this,” Motioning towards the statue in question, “standing on one leg, with a boar’s head behind her ear, being especially protective over what she’s been assigned to. Sometimes she’s even wearing a necklace of heads. God, I love her!”

 

She makes a very fast but skillful sketch of the statue, making sure to add the headdress, the accompanying boar’s head, and the beads draped over its otherwise naked body, and continues to sing its praises. “I love so much how these artists are so consistent with the way they depict these figures, their clothes, what they’re holding, how they’re standing or sitting, even the way they position their hands and their fingers. I just cannot…”

 

 She stops talking and blinks a couple times before realizing what just happened. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

 

 

I look at her in amazement, then shake my head and try to reassure her. “No, no, it’s fine! I actually love how passionate you are about this kind of work. I didn’t wanna say anything because it’s obvious that it’s really important to you. You are an artist, after all.”

 

She giggles nervously. “Ah hah…it’s a habit, I guess.”

 

“It’s a good habit! More people need to be as enthusiastic as you are about art.”

 

“Er…well--I—uh…” She stammers, visibly blushing. She looks around for a way to change the subject. “Hey look over there let’s draw that!” She runs towards an ornate painting of a red warrior fighting dragons and also looking really pissed off. “This one is my absolute favorite. Her name is Begtse; she’s a dharmapala, kind of like a heraka, but she’s more focused on the law.”

 

“Is she also constantly pissed off?”

 

“Oh no, she’s quite compassionate. She just looks and acts that way to get better results. Add more bark to her bite, you know?”

 

“It looks like it’s working. Hey, you wanna see who can draw her with the most detail in 10 minutes?? Loser buys ice cream!”

 

I see redoubled determination in Safiya’s eyes. “You’re on!”

 

We take our usual spots on the cushion in front of the painting and get to work right away. I nudge Safiya’s pencil occasionally, trying to give myself an edge, even though I don’t really know how much detail can be put into a study of a painting where almost everything is entwined with everything else.

 

10 minutes later, with cramping hands, we finish and compare. Safiya’s work almost looks like a picture out of a coloring book. And despite my efforts to win, my own work is far less epic. Rather than fighting off the evils that plague humanity, Begtse just looks like she’s playing a lovely game of tennis with them.

 

“That’s what you get for playing dirty,” Safiya says smugly.

 

“Hey, I like winning things!”

 

2:30 pm

 

I buy some colored pencils at the gift shop, then we leave the museum. “I gotta say, I do love that outburst of art you had earlier.”

 

“Heh, I guess that’s what happens when you spend most of your time around it at school. But it was really fun hanging out like this! I saw you bought those pencils earlier; are you gonna color your drawings?”

 

“I’m gonna try. Are you?”

 

“Oh definitely. I’m really proud of my work. I’m gonna go home and do that now. I’ll see you around!”

 

“Okay. See you!”

 

We hug goodbye and I walk to my car, while she heads towards the subway station.

 

I have definitely redeemed myself for Turtle Back.

 

On the way home, I finally decide that I’m perfectly fine with just being friends with Safiya. In fact, it’s better this way. Given her faith, it’s not as though she’s ever going to bring it up, right?

 

As soon as I flop onto my couch, my phone rings. It’s a call from my dad.

 

“Hi honey! Did you hibernate like usual today?”

 

“Hey, Daddy. No, no hibernation today. I actually went somewhere with a friend.”

 

“Oh good! Glad to hear you got your nose out of Excel for once,” he jokes.

 

I snort. “I just went to Newark Museum with Safiya. She’s a girl I met while doing business with a graphic design company. She’s super sweet and she knows a lot about art.”

 

“It sounds like you guys had fun!”

 

“We did. I can’t wait to see her again. I should introduce her to you guys sometime!”

 

“She sounds lovely. I think we’d get along well. Oh! Guess what?”

 

“What?”

 

“The summer class I’m leading isn’t meeting next Monday, so I’m gonna come home next weekend and help your mother barbecue.”

 

“Yay! I can’t wait! Is anyone else coming too, do you know?”

 

“Oh yeah! Um, some of your cousins and your Uncle Robbie.”

 

My smile falters. “Oh…him. Well, maybe it won’t be so bad this time. It’s been a while; he may have come out of his…phase.”

 

“What phase?”

 

“His…well, it’s not important. It might not even be a thing once you get here.”

 

“Alright…I’ll see you next week. Love you!”

 

“I love you too, Daddy!”

 

 

July 3, 6:30pm, Madison: Safiya

 

After getting home from my parents’ house, I lie on my couch watching Squidbillies from the beginning and decide to shoot Marion a text.

 

6:31

_Hey, what’s up? Did you ever start your Begtse?_

I watch Early attempt to dance with his cellmate, though it amounts to useless flailing, especially when he tries to twirl on 4. “This ain’t gonna be worth a damn,” he laments. I’m inclined to agree.

 

My phone pings.

 

6:34

_Hey! Yeah, I just started. I think it’s turning out pretty well, but I might run out of red._

6:35

_Lol. Are you gonna be open next Monday? I know it’s early._

6:37

_Nah. U gotta plan these things in advance. My dad’s is home from Penn State and we’re gonna bbq. I wish u could come_ _L_

6:39

_Aww! Well, it’s not like I can’t be around pork, I just can’t eat it. It’s probably better if I don’t go though. Temptation, y’know?_

6:44

_Oh yeah. Speaking of which, can I ask u something?_

6:45

_Sure, what’s up?_

I can see her formulating a reply, but then she stops, and starts again.

6:46

_So like, are u not required to wear ur hijab all the time?_

6:47

_No. I wear it to run to the store and to hang out with my friends and stuff like that, but never to work. I dunno what my boss would say._

6:48

_Aww, that’s gotta suck.  Although, in most places u can wear things like that if you tell ur boss about them beforehand. It’s not like she could fire u for having a scarf on ur head, right?_

I think about it for a moment. Megan never said we _couldn’t_ wear religious attire. I don’t know how much she could say about it, really.

 

6:50

_That’s true. Plus she’d have to get Lauren to agree to kicking me out too. I’ll have to think about it…_

I give Lauren a quick call to tell her that I might be wearing my hijab to work on Tuesday, and spend the rest of the night mulling it over, the sounds of redneck squids fading into the background…


	5. Chapter 5

July 4, 3:00pm: Marion

 

My dad has come home to barbecue with me, my mom and a few maternal family members. I love seeing them during family gatherings. Well…except for one…

 

“Marion! How are you?”

 

 

I flinch slightly and look up from my hamburger. I roll my eyes. “Hey, Uncle Rob…”

 

“Marion, I told you to call me Imhotep from now on.”

 

I barely manage to hide my displeasure from him. “Sorry, _Uncle Imhotep_. How’s life been?”

 

“It’s been pretty great. I am concerned with you eating that cancer on a bun though. Why you ain’t had some of the cucumber your mama cooked?

 

“I told you, I hate cucumber. I took some of the grilled asparagus she made, though,” I say, taking a bite to punctuate.

 

 

“Not good enough. You need a natural diet if you’re gonna keep your energy up, girl.”

 

I shrug. “Mm, I guess I do need to eat more veggies. They’ll probably keep me from getting that horrible feeling after lunch.”

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, are you gonna settle down anytime soon?”

 

I furrow my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

 

“I know you like owning that little store of yours, but at some point you gonna have to find a man to protect you and take care of you.”

 

“…Um, no I don’t. I can take care of myself.”

 

My uncle clucks his tongue and shakes his head. “See, that’s why we’re dying. You don’t want to contribute to the survival of your people by giving yourself to a brother and raising strong Black children. I told Layla _and_ Marc that you needed to be brought up to act as a queen, and not just wear the crown,” He says, pulling a strand of my hair. “Now your inner G’s gonna be all outta wack—“

 

“Mama!” I yell, smacking Rob’s hand away from my head and rising to go back inside. Soon my mother passes me on the way outside to cuss him out, again. He doesn’t come over nearly as often as the others, but this happens every time he does, anymore: Blah blah blah pork is bad blah blah blah find a man blah blah blah babies.

 

My mother comes back and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Okay, Marion, I’ve asked him to leave. He shouldn’t be a problem for the rest of the day.”

 

I grimace. “Yeah, but, Mama, why do you keep inviting him? You know what he’s like.”

 

She looks downwards. “I know, baby, but he’s family. I don’t even know where he got it. We can’t just cut him off like that, not unless he does something horrible.”

 

I cluck my tongue and walk back outside to grab a soda. “That’s why you can’t give him the opportunity…”

9:30 pm, Madison: Safiya

 

Some of my friends and I have gone out to buy ice cream and watch the fireworks. I buy mint chocolate; Omar picks strawberry; Fatima takes chocolate, and Sadegh prefers pistachio. Omar takes a break from taking literal bites out of his ice cream (teeth of steel, that one) and says, “So, Safi, I hear you got a furniture saleswoman for a friend now. Did you guys hang out at HomeGoods yesterday?” The others laugh.

 

I roll my eyes. “No, Omar, we went to Newark museum. She’s a lot of fun.”

 

“Ohhh, did you go on one of your lectures about art again?” says Fatima.

 

“So what if I did?”

 

“You have to admit, it’s kinda freaky to watch someone transform into an educational video about angry tit demons.”

 

I shove Fatima playfully. “Shut up! She happens to like when I show how much I know. And she did a really good sketch of the ‘angry tit demon’ too.”

 

“So what’s she like, anyway?”

 

“She’s super friendly, she’s bubbly, she’s ambitious, and I have the feeling she isn’t afraid to play dirty sometimes, even if she ends up not getting what she wanted.”

 

“What does she look like?”

 

“She’s got an afro that she ties back sometimes, and she wears glasses and has fairly dark skin. She’s really pretty.”

 

“Is she one of those ‘conscious’ types that makes a huge deal out of her afro and calls herself a queen and stuff?”  


“No! She just likes wearing it that way because it’s low-maintenance.”

 

“She sounds pretty cool.”

 

“She’s amazing.”

 

“…Something’s up. No one’s that great without something to hide under it,” Sadegh says suspiciously.

 

I scoff. “You always do this! ‘He’s got a dark secret!’ ‘She’s covering something up!’ ‘Blah blah blah I know what random people want!’ Lay off the cynicism for once! Maybe she actually likes me as a person!”

 

The fireworks start. Reds and blues and greens loudly illuminate the sky and we watch for a minute before Omar speaks:

 

“…You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

 

He’s broken my concentration. I shake my head. “Huh—wha…?”

 

“You like furniture girl. You’re starting to get that dreamy look you would get when you talked about a girl you liked at Rutgers. It’s been a while, but I can tell.”

 

I look down and feel myself blush. “…okay, maybe a little bit.”

 

Bang. Crackle.

 

“I’m conflicted though. I’m honestly not too keen on asking her out or anything like that.”

 

Omar furrows his eyebrow. “Why not? You just told us she was this amazing person.”

 

I sigh. “I know, but I know how the black community and even our own families can be about homosexuality. My parents are cool about it, but I can tell they _really_ want grandkids. I mean, you know me; I’d want to be in a relationship with Marion for the long run, so it would probably become even more obvious.”

 

“Well, you could always adopt.”

 

“See, that’s it: I don’t even _want_ kids. And, like I said, I know my parents only pretend to be okay with it for my sake. And what if Marion does wants kids? There’s people who’ve divorced over that.”

 

“…Wow. I didn’t think of that.”

 

I bunch my knees up to my chest. “Yeah, there’s a lot to this relationship thing. I guess I’ll just have to push it down and be the best friend I can be.”

 

Omar smiles. “Well, that should be pretty easy for you.”

 

I continue to look at the fireworks. “Yeah…”

 

When I get home, a weird sense of determination overtakes me. I make a beeline to my closet and take a good, long look at the collection of scarves I use for hijabs, thinking about what Marion and I talked about Sunday. I ask myself what the harm would be in wearing it more often. Besides, it’s not like it’s against company policy, right?

 

 

July 5, 8:30am

 

I decide on my favorite dark blue one that my parents got me after Ramadan a few years ago, and go to pick up Lauren from her house.

 

“Hey!” Lauren gets into my car, and looks to her left. “Oh, whoa…so you really decided to go through with it today, eh? What brought this on?”

 

“I was talking to Marion Sunday night about it, and looked at my collection and I thought, ‘Eh, why not?’ Besides, it’d be a waste to only wear such cute hijabs on the weekends.”

 

“That’s as good a reason as any,” Lauren says, nodding.

 

Once we get there, the first person we see is John. “Hey guys! Wha…oh, right. That’s a pretty color!”

 

And he goes back to his email.  “Well, I guess that’s a good sign,” I tell Lauren.

 

As soon as I get to my desk, Megan bursts through the back door, right on time.

 

“Alright people! We’ve got a busy day ahead of us today! I’ve got a ton of new projects that I want to put out this week so let’s get to it!”

 

Everyone cringes, me included.

 

Megan makes a beeline to my desk because, again, of course. “Safiya, you’re getting the very first concept for the week. Lucky you~!”

 

I have to strain not to roll my eyes. “ _Yes, lucky me,_ ” I mutter, setting aside my notebook. “So what do you have for me, Megan?”

 

“Today I have…uh…oh.” Suddenly she falters, blinking at me.

 

“What’s wrong?” I realize that she’s staring at my hijab. “Oh! This? Yeah, I felt like I should finally start wearing it, since it’s part of my faith and all. Now, what did—“

 

“Er…never mind. You can just have this one instead. It should be pretty easy, right?” She leaves without most of her usual pep. “Um…what?” I say to myself, then put it out of my mind and open the folder. It’s…it’s just a concept for some new notebook designs. _Actual_ notebooks, with lines in them. “Pet-themed”, it says. Pfft, I can do that!

 

I decide that I’m going to make 4 pairs of pets and use them for one cover each. After a bit of research I decide on: dogs and cats, fish and birds, lizards and snakes, and goats and llamas. A little something for everybody!

 

I use up to three types of each species, determine a design for each of them and get to work making the note books themselves…

 

…

……

………

 

After I’m done with the maiden cover for the first set, I notice that it’s my lunchtime, and decide to go to Sweet Basil and then visit Marion at DD. I hope she’s not too busy…

 

 

 

 

July 5, 12:30pm: Marion

 

Mina started her first week of shifts today, since I gave her a week to prepare and then closed up shop for Independence Day. She has been experimenting with the cash register buttons since I opened up shop. She does stop long enough to actually ring a few people up, and is doing a good job. We chat while there’s a lull in customers.

 

“You’re still on that?”

 

She stops for a second and sighs. “I’m sorry! I just wanna get this right!”

 

“You’re doing just fine, Mina.” I try to change the subject to get her to calm down a bit. “So, did you do anything during the holiday yesterday?”

 

“My friends invited me to a cookout. It was fun, but I found it rather odd to be celebrating a holiday based on something that ended with my own country losing a war.”

 

I chuckle. “We do like celebrating freedom in this country, _fake as it may be_ ,” I mutter.

 

“How was your holiday, Miss Decampe?” She asks, breaking my concentration.

 

“Huh? Eh, it was alright. Grilled meat, weird relatives, that kind of thing. My dad came down from Penn State to visit and help my mum cook.” I don’t need to bother her with stories about my uncle.

 

“Pennsylvania State University? Isn’t that…well…in Pennsylvania?”

 

“Takes my dad 3 hours to get here from there.”

 

“You must be very excited to see him when you can, then!”

 

“I really am. I can’t wait till he makes Emeritus and then I can see him all the time!”

 

Then I hear someone come through the door. I turn around and start my usual spiel.

 

“Welcome to Decampe Décor! How might I—omigosh Safiya!” I run towards her and wrap my arms around her. “It’s so great to see you here!”

 

“Thanks!” She returns the hug, then says, “I was at Sweet Basil and just thought I’d stop to visit during my lunch hour. How’s business?”

 

I put an arm around her. “Oh, honey, it’s gotten a lot better to deal with, thanks to my new employee!” I say grandly, and sweep my free arm towards Mina, who squeaks and straightens up.

 

“Er…h-hello! My name is Mina Patterson. Might you be a friend of Miss Decampe?” She stammers, extending a hand towards Safiya.

 

“Yep! Hi, I’m Safiya Alfarsi. She did business with my graphic design company a little while ago. You made a really good choice working here.”

 

She relaxes and smiles. “I think so too. Was there anything you needed help with today, Miss Alfarsi?”

 

“Oh no, thanks. I just wanted to pop by.”

 

“Alright, well, just give a yell!”

 

“Okay!” Safiya walk towards the wall art to ponder it a while. I follow her. “Oh, hey, did you notice anything different about me while you were throwing yourself into my arms?” she says, motioning towards the blue hijab wrapped around her head.

 

I decide to play dumb and snort, “Umm…you have braces?”

 

She pushes me in the shoulder. “No, silly!”

 

“Oh, I know! You’re wearing your hijab today! That’s great!”

 

But…

 

 “Has Megan given you grief about it?”

 

“Strangely enough, no. Not yet, anyway; she _did_ give me an utterly normal project to work on though: notebooks with pets on ‘em.”

 

“ _Actual_ notebooks?” I say, looking at her over my glasses.

 

“Yes! With lines and a little calendar in the front! Mashallah!”

 

“Nice! I bet it’s gonna be adorable,” she gushes.

 

“Oh, it will be. Heck, once I’m done, maybe I can give you some of the cover art and you can sell it here as high-end décor.” We both laugh.

 

“My first show: Adorable Pets Floating Through the Purple Void! $5 per person!” She shouts grandly, waving her arms around.

 

She leaves after a while, and another customer comes in, looking for a lamp…

 

July 8, 4:00pm, Designonary: Safiya

 

It’s almost sad how satisfying it feels to have normal projects to do. In fact, it’s been suspiciously quiet; Megan hasn’t come up to me about even mildly bizarre projects or anything all week. I wonder if something’s wrong…?

 

I’ve sent the first batch of covers for a new theme, 20 of each set, to the heavy-duty printer in the back room. I’m on my way to retrieve them and make them into notebooks when I hear voices coming from Megan’s back office.

 

“Lauren, you’re around her more often than anybody! Why didn’t you tell me about this?!”

 

Lauren sighs. “Megan, I called you yesterday to tell you that she might be wearing her hijab today, and you clearly said, ‘OK’.”

 

I hear Megan cluck her tongue. “Well you could’ve told me what that was!”

 

“You couldn’t have just Googled it?” Lauren says, exasperated. “And anyway, company policy says she can wear it because it falls under religious dress. I’m not gonna let you stop Safiya from wearing it just because _you_ don’t like it.”

 

Megan scoffs. “I’m telling you, it’s not _about_ me. It’s about Safiya and the way her religion is policing what she does, how she acts. It’s textbook internalized misogyny. I was willing to let it go Monday, but I think something is wrong.”

 

“She’s an intelligent adult woman; I’m sure she’d know if she was being manipulated into something. I think _you’re_ the one trying to police her, honestly.”

 

“I’m _trying_ to protect her! You would be too, if you knew what I know about Islam.”

 

So that’s how it is.

 

Great. Just great. The one time I get a normal project, and I can’t even enjoy it because now it’s so obvious to me that this is because she thinks I need her to “protect” me from something that I have always chosen as part of my life.

.

I don’t stick around to hear the rest. Instead I head to the back of the building to make copies of what I now regard as a pity project.


	6. Chapter 6

July 9, 6:30

 

“…And she was all, ‘She’s being oppressed! I’m trying to protect her! Blah blah blah I know more about Islam than a Muslim who works for me!’”

 

“She does not know what she’s talking about!” My mother cries, gleefully outraged. “The prophet, peace be upon him, afforded us more rights than anyone in his time! But…but I do not want you to suffer because of your faith, either. We did not raise you to be a martyr. If you truly feel as though your job is in danger, you don’t need to wear hijab.”

 

“I’ll be fine, Mama. Thank you, though. I love you!”

 

“I love you too, Safi.”

 

I hang up, set my phone down and pick up the pen to my drawing tablet, look at the program I’m using it with, and sigh deeply.

 

Notebooks with bubbles on them.

 

Notebooks with shoes on them.

 

Notebooks with plates of spaghetti on them.

 

Notebooks with strips of decorative wallpaper on them.

 

That’s what I did this week. That’s the _only_ thing I did this week. I’ve been working on the shoe one since I got home yesterday.

 

I know I should be happy, but right now I’m conflicted. I knew Megan was eccentric and impulsive in the worst kind of way, but I never knew she was capable of being so presumptuous. What’s worse, every time she passed these projects to me she’d presented them as though she’d had something else planned for me before noticing the scarf on my head, because she’d expected me to leave it off the next day, and having it on renders me unable to do any kind of complex work.

 

It’s fucking infuriating! And she hasn’t even tried to hide her pity…

 

But now what? Everyone knows she likes to give me the weird ones under any other circumstance. She’s probably dumping her original idea for me on some other poor sap; someone she knows isn’t “internalizing misogyny” like I am, so she doesn’t have to worry about actually trying to understand my perspective.

 

_What was the point, anyway? Hijab isn’t gonna make you work any harder. In fact, it’s making the others work harder._

_Look, if Megan wants to be all uptight about it, that’s her problem. She’s supposed to be the superior here. Besides, this is part of my heritage._

_Is part of your heritage taking advantage of the misplaced pity people have for hijabi?_

…I wanna know what Marion thinks. I don’t need outside validation. It’s normal to want someone to talk to in these situations, I think as I phone Marion. She closes up shop at 5 on Saturdays so she’s probably home by now. After two rings, she picks up.

 

“Safiya! Hey! What’s up?”

 

“Hey, Marion. Y’know how on Monday I said Megan hadn’t said anything about my hijab?”

 

“Oh no, did she tell you to stop wearing it after all?”

 

“No. But she _did_ go behind my back and yell at Lauren about letting me wear it. Something about ‘internalized misogyny’ and Lauren not knowing what she knows about Islam.

 

I mean, what the _fuck_ does she know about it?! She hasn’t even bothered to ask me about it all week, like it’s _my_ job to go out of my way to educate her. Ugh!!”

 

“That’s so gross. You shouldn’t have to put up with that,” Marion says, disgusted.

 

“I know! And now I feel like a bad person because not only is she gonna give the weird ones to someone else, but also because I know my coworkers are cool with it, but I’m letting _her_ get me bent all out of shape. I shouldn’t let her dictate how I feel about this.”

 

“Maybe it’s because she’s the most vocal about it? Like, it’s good that your coworkers aren’t making a big deal out of their acceptance, but it also means Megan’s disapproval stands out more, y’know?”

 

I make a noise of discomfort.

 

“You’re not a bad person, Safiya. If anyone was that loud about my hair, I’d be in a funk, too.”

 

I giggle. “Alright, if you say so. I know what usually gets me out of a funk: Bad movies!”

 

“Yes, girl! Um…do you want me to come over? I could bring popcorn and something from my DVD collection?”

 

I gasp. “R-really? You wanna come over here?” I look around at my apartment. “Mm, I dunno. My place is pretty small. Are you sure?” She probably has something closer to a penthouse.

 

Marion scoffs. “Girl, I lived with my parents for two years before starting DD, you are _fine_.”

 

“Okay then! My apartment is at 4323 Rosedale Avenue. It’s pretty straight forward from the two times I’ve driven from here to where you are, heh.”

 

I hear her mumbling, probably looking it up on Google. “Okay, 4323 Rosedale…19 minutes. That’s not too bad. I’ll be right over!”

 

“Okay! See you soon!”

 

As soon as I hang up, I immediately start frantically walking around my living room/bedroom, looking for anything that might be out of place...

 

She calls back. “Oh! One more thing: How do you feel about Jones soda?”

 

“I _love_ Jones! Blue Raspberry is my favorite.”

 

“Duly noted. See ya!”

 

…

 

About 20 minutes later, Marion shows up, with a sack full of unpopped popcorn bags, and 2 4-packs each of Goose IPA and Blue Raspberry Jones. “Bright citrus aromas…in a bold hop finish!” She says coolly, mimicking the commercial.

 

“Meh, more like dark bready aromas in a liquid bread finish.”

 

Marion pushes me in the shoulder. “Pfft. I’d let you have some but you can’t drink beer, can ya?”

 

“Oh no, I can, and I have. It’s just disgusting. I don’t care if it smells like oranges or whatever.” That is what citrus means, right?

 

She sticks her tongue out and sets the four four-packs on my kitchen counter before setting the bag on her shoulder onto the floor. She picks two DVDs from the bag. “So, which one do you wanna do first? I have “The Room” and “Troll 2”. Troll 2 is my favorite, by the way. _So_ many memorable quotes.”

 

“Mm…nah. Let’s start with The Room, something relatively tame. I have a movie of my own planned.”

Marion pouts, but sticks a popcorn bag in the microwave and cracking open a beer for herself and a soda for me, while I pop the Blu-ray disc into my PS4.

 

“Alright! First up, The Room!”

 

Johnny has given Lisa a dress and now they’re fucking. Tommy doesn’t know how sex works apparently.

Me: “Wow, I didn’t know he was so into navel play.”

Marion: …I’m kinkshaming.

Me: Hey! To each his own!

 

After sex, Johnny goes into the bathroom and we get a clear shot of his ass.

Me: Coming up: Pasty Pseudo-European Ass Crack!

 

Later, Lisa becomes bored with Johnny for some reason and fucks his best friend Mark on the stairs.

Me: “Much like shower sex, stair sex is hot on paper, potentially deadly in practice.”

 

Johnny goes to buy Lisa roses in a very fast and confusing flower shop scene.

Marion: “I wish all my sales went that quickly. And had more dogs.”

 

Lisa’s mom tells Lisa that she definitely has breast cancer, and Lisa tells her that Johnny hit her.

Me: Breast cancer: Whatever.

Marion: He may slap you around, but at least he’s not a drunk!

 

Then for some reason Johnny’s weird tiny friend shows up and has a violent encounter with a guy who gave him drugs. No drug in particular, just drugs.

Me: Where’s his fuckin’ money, Denny?!

Marion: He doesn’t have five fuckin’ minutes!!

 

Johnny and Lisa have a dispute about the lie she told earlier. This is my favorite line.

Me and Johnny: “You are tearing me a _part_ , Lisa!”

 

The psychiatrist character catches on to what Mark is doing, and Mark tries to throw him off the roof.

Me: That’s not weed he was smoking.

 

Then at Johnny’s birthday party, Mark and Lisa are caught by a very bad attempt at replacing the psychiatrist. He is told to leave his stupid comments in his pocket.

Marion: What’s done in the dark comes to the light by way of…some dude.

Me: Them comments will come out of the pocket soon.

 

Johnny finally finds out about MarLisa, and he goes on a rampage that looks more like an interpretive dance.

Marion: The gentle rage of a jilted lover.

Me: Lisa tore him apart, now he’s tearing the Room apart.

 

Johnny ends his rampage by humping the sexy red dress he’d given Lisa prior to their navel play, then shoots himself in the mouth.

Lisa:”…Is he dead? My God, Mark, is he dead?!”

Marion: Nawww, Lisa, he just likes to sleep in pools of his own blood.

 

The movie ends with Lisa, Mark and Denny mourning the loss of their Johnny.

“So…that took $6,000,000 to make?” Marion says, picking up the DVD box and examining it.

 

“I dunno where he got it from. I think most of it was because he actually bought two types of cameras rather than renting them.”

 

“6 mil and he couldn’t produce anything better. I bet he was _real_ popular on set.”

 

“I think some of the crew members came really close to punching him because he was such a shitty director.”

 

“You have no idea how infuriating it is to me to see bad leadership,” She says, shaking her head and shoving a fistful of popcorn into her mouth. “Can we watch Troll 2 now?”

 

I chuckle. “Yes, we can, Marion, since you behaved so well during the last movie.” She preens.

 

I pop in the DVD and steal some of Marion’s popcorn.

 

The story begins with a grandfather telling his grandson a story about goblins (not trolls). This guy named Peter turns into a plant and nourishes these goblins.

Marion: Peter, you dumbass! Adventurers don’t eat green mush from pretty girls!

Me: This feels like dollar store Princess Bride.

Marion: Do not compare that masterpiece to this dumpster fire.

 

The older sister’s boyfriend sneaks into her room, and gets punched in the balls for his trouble. He accuses her of “trying to turn him into a homo”.

Me: You’re thinking of a eunuch, dear. Though…it’s not like you can’t be both.

Marion: Oh, you’ll see.

 

Later on in Nilbog during the exchange, Grandpa Seth (who has turned out to be a ghost) stops time for a very long thirty seconds for Joshua to keep his family from eating tainted corn. He decides he must…pee on it. Understandably his father is upset, and tells him that he cannot piss on hospitality.

Me: That’s not exactly my go to solution…

Marion: He saved your lives, Michael. He actually pissed on murder.

 

Elliot goes to Nilbog with his friends to find Holly for some reason. The one in the yellow shirt, Drew laments the lack of food in the fridge, and is told to go into town. The other two are in bed together, shirtless.

Me: Oh my…maybe they are homos.

 

A woman named Creedence Leonore Gieguld of Stonehenge feeds a girl to the goblins in her weird house, and Elliot’s boyfriend Arnold looks on in horror.

Marion: Ooh, this is my favorite line…

Marion and Arnold: “They’re eating her! And then they’re gonna eat me! Oh my Goooooooooooooooooooood!”

 

Joshua spies on the townsfolk in the church, but they seize him by the face and creepily plead with him to open his mouth so they can feed him melted ice cream.

Me: I think Joshua needs an adult that isn’t any of these people.

Marion: And that adult…is Michael!

 

Creedence makes herself gorgeous and accosts the remaining boyfriend, seducing him with a bad rendition of “You Can Leave Your Hat On” and an ear of corn. They make out, and popcorn flies everywhere.

Me: Wait, what’s happening? Where’s the popcorn coming from?? I’m scared!!

Marion: Accept it, Safiya! Accept the sexual popcorn!!

 

The trolls and their leader are soon vanquished by a sandwich with far too much meat and the entire family touching the stone.

Marion: Yes! Fondle the stone! That’ll destroy the evil.

Me: …Okay, now _I’m_ kinkshaming.

 

But alas, it was all for naught, as Diane ends up eating apples that the goblins tainted and becomes green goop.

Marion: There’s nothing I find more appetizing than tit-shaped veggies.

Me:For never was a story of more hate,

Than that of the trolls and the mom they ate.

Marion: Goblins.

Me: Shhh! You’ll mess up the meter!

 

By now I’ve found myself draped over Marion’s legs, supporting my head with one arm and nursing my fifth bottle of Jones with the other. Marion is rather tipsy, as she is finding it hard to keep her head upright. “Ooof…that was a trip. I don’t wanna see food for the next ten years. What we got next?”

 

“Next is something I found on YouTube: International Guerillas. I think it’s about this guy who wrote a book and got a fatwa put on him.”

 

“Oooh, fatwa~! Whuzzat?” She asks, lolling her head in my direction.

 

“Basically an important Muslim leader telling people that it’s okay to kill a guy for some reason. I’ve heard it gets really fucked up.”

 

She giggles. “Hey! _I’m_ really fucked up! It evens out!”

 

I snicker and roll over to pat her shoulder. “Of course it does, Marion.”

 

International Guerillas

The bad guy’s top lackey, Chief Batu Batu, is planning to create a explosion so big that all Muslims will see it, and it will destroy Islam. “And that’s what we people want!”

Marion:Oh, oh yeah, you muhfuckas are gonna destroy a thousand-year-old religion with an explosion. Bye.

Me: I love how they lapse into garbled English for no reason.

 

The meeting is concluded in a dance club, with a girl dancing and singing about how pretty she is. The scene lasts about 25 minutes, at _least_ , and includes two dudes singing about how cool _they_ are, then we find out it’s all a sting.

Marion: Well, I could not understand a word they were saying but at least the music is catchy.

Me: I’d dance that at a party if I could dance.

 

Later, the brothers’ niece and nephew are at a demonstration protesting Salmon Rugby’s book, and the leader declares that, “Anyone who comes in our way would be killed like a dog!"

Marion: Yeah, I'd be mad too if someone just came all over the ground for me to step in.

Me: Ewww!

 

And I don’t know what happens after that, because the movie is so long and stupid and Marion’s lap is so comfy that I can’t keep my eyes open. She’s already knocked out. I follow suit, the sounds of strobes fading into the distance…

 

Some lady’s eyes…

 

Dancing…

 

Machine guns…

 

Floating Qur’ans…

 

I wake up sometime later and it’s fairly light out. I’m still lying on Marion’s legs. I grab my phone off the couchside table, and after my eyes adjust to the light, I can see…

 

 

Sunday, July 10, 9:05am

“ _Shit!!_ Agh!” I cry, and roll off of Marion onto my floor. The loud, painful thump wakes Marion up. “Huh? Wha--?! What happened?! Saf—ugh, ow my head…!” She rubs her temples, her eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s nine in the morning!”

“Hey, hey, not so loud! Now why is 9 in the morning so important?”

“I’m supposed to be at my mosque in like 30 minutes! My mom didn’t say I could miss prayer time with the family!”

Her eyes snap open. “Shit! Let’s get over there, then!” She winces. “Ugggh, but my head is pounding…”

“…I’ll tell you what: I’ll give you some ibuprofen, and you can come to Salah with me. You don’t even have to do anything, just, like, sit there and look pensive… oh, god, I haven’t showered, my hair is a mess, ugh—!!” I ramble, walking in small circles. Out of the corner of my eye I see Marion get up from my couch, stagger a bit, flutter her eyes, and then head towards my bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7

July 10, 9:15: Marion

 

Fuuuck, my head!! When will this Advil kick in…?!

Can’t be concerned with that. Gotta be cool. Gotta make a good first impression. Gotta blend in. I know she said I didn't have to wear a head covering but she's probably going to for...um...whatever it was called...for... Muslim-church and I--I--I don't--

 

Hold on, Marion. Think about what you're doing. Why does it matter? The way you cycle through religions, you'll be Muslim for like a week before something else comes up. This isn't even about Islam; it's about Safiya. You're seriously pissing your pants over a head scarf because you wanna make a girl happy? You know how important this is to her. You might as well give it a passing glance before moving on.

I calm down, decide to just pull my hair back, and slap on some deodorant, and hope to God (heh) nobody I saw yesterday sees me today. “You ready good let’s get the hell out of here!” Safiya exclaims, bursting into the bathroom, hijab wrapped haphazardly around her head. So I was right.

We dash out of her apartment, nearly falling over each other down the 3 flights of stairs to the lobby, and fly into her car.

The mosque is very obvious and very easy to find. I get there about five minutes before Safiya told me she and her parents usually meet up.

“Mashallah, we made it! Come on, we might see my parents.”

Right when we pass through the wide, intricately decorated doors, I spot an older couple who address Safiya right away. “Safi! Are you alright? You’re all over the place!” The man exclaims. “

Safiya, trying to get her wind back, introduces them. "Marion, I'd like you to meet my parents. This is my father, Iqbal, and my mother, Shideh. They're here every Sunday to pray."

 

"Oh, wonderful! Safi has told us so much about you, Ms. Marion! She tells us that God has blessed you with a successful business in this state!" Mr. Alfarsi says, walking towards me and taking my hands in both of his.

“Ah, well, it’s still somewhat in its early stages, but that’s still very kind of you to say, Mr. Alfarsi.”

"Papa! Don't crowd her! She's never been here before!"

 

"Oh, don't worry! She'll fit right in!" Her father replies. "Now I don't assume you speak Arabic, but that okay, because Safi’s isn’t all that great either! But istighfar if she doesn't try."

 

"Papa!!" Safiya whisper-screams, blushing. So adorable...

We enter the prayer room, and I have never seen so many rugs. The businesswoman in me thinks about how much money I could make selling to the Muslim crowd, but I shut that thought out immediately; now is not the time.

The study is a blur, but beautiful all the same. I mingle with some of the people that were there before us before meeting back up with Safiya and her family to go to her parents’ house.

“Oh, hey!” A male voice calls to me. I spin around to see a guy about my height wearing a taqiyyah. “You’re furniture girl, right? I’m Omar; me and Safiya went to Rutgers together. She’s told us a bunch about how great you are. It’s nice to finally meet you!”

 

“Ah…likewise.”

Shideh insists that I sit at the head of the table before beginning to stir a pot of what I can recognize as spinach that had apparently been simmering before she left for service.

 

"Do you like lamb very much, dear?"

 

"Er...I've never had it, Mrs. Alfarsi, but I'm willing to try anything once."

 

"That's the spirit! I've made Ghormeh Sabzi, tadeeg and kebabs. Safi loves it as an after-masjid meal."

 

She makes a plate of the stuff for each of us, along with what looks to be a small plate of rice that has coagulated into a pastry like form, and two full shishkabobs. I'm pretty sure they don't expect me to eat all of it, but I guess I'll stop when I'm absolutely full. "Thank you, Mrs. Alfarsi. Should I pray over the food or--?"

 

"Noo, noo, eat! You've not eaten in hours, I assume!"

 

"Oh...alright then. Thank you for the food!"

 

I partake of the kabobs, the lamb and spinach, and the burnt rice, periodically washing them down with some kind of watermelon drink. About 10 minutes in, I could swear that Safiya has been stealing glances at me. She keeps her eyes low, and shifts them towards me when she thinks I'm not looking. The eating is interspersed with talking that I sometimes join in with, and sometimes continue eating. As I take a break from stuffing my face, I realize that while my tongue is happy with such new and strange foods, my stomach is not. "Ooof, I'm feeling a bit heavy..."

 

"Do you need to relieve yourself? The bathroom is up the stairs and to the left," Mr. Alfarsi says, noticing my discomfort.

 

"Oh! Uh... thank you so much!" I bolt up the stairs to empty myself.

 

(Sometime), 2:30: Safiya

 

As Marion fast walks up the stairs, my parents and everyone else give me strange looks.

 

("What? What's wrong?") I ask in Farsi as they stare at me.

 

("We've noticed you've been eyeing that girl all dinner, Safi.") Mama replies, setting her fork down.

 

("Um...should I not be? Am I wrong to do it?") I reply, lowering my eyes.

 

Papa folds his hands on the table. ("We have one question to ask you: When is the wedding?")

 

I snap my head up and I feel my face burning. ("What! What wedding?!")

 

Mama points her finger at me. ("Don't lie to your Mama. You know and we know that you are in love with her.")

(“That’s what I’ve been telling her, Mrs. Alfarsi!”) Omar interjects, making everyone else laugh.

 

("Wha--I--don't be ridiculous! She's way out of my league!! And I don't even know if she likes women! And you keep your mouth shut, Omar!")

 

Papa takes my hand. ("Don't sell yourself short, Safi! I saw how you looked at each other at masjid today. My only objection is this: How will you make children? I don't think you were born with a penis...") Everyone laughs harder.

 

I blush harder. ("I don't want kids, Papa, you know that!")

 

Papa sits back in his seat, somewhat dejected. ("Oh, alright. As long as you're happy.")

 

("(sigh). I suppose that's as much as I can ask for. Thank you, Papa. You too, Mama.")

 

Mama grabs my face and kisses it all over, releasing it just as Marion comes back, sits in her chair and releases a breath.

 

"Agh...I'm sorry, Mrs. Alfarsi. Your cooking is delicious, but I can't eat another bite."

 

"That's alright! I'll wrap it up for your fridge!" Mama swipes Marion's half-full plates and smothers them in saran wrap before handing them back to her. "That should save you some dollars, eh?"

 

"Ah...yes. Thank you very much!" She stands to go to her car outside.

 

"I think we’re gonna head home. Marion has to pick up her car from my place. Thanks for dinner, Mama!" I say, hugging them both. "Marion, did you want me to help you with those?"

 

"If you could..." I relieve her of the kebabs and tadeeg. Marion walks out the door, and I’m about to follow her when Aïda grabs my arm and whispers “What did I tell you? You almost missed prayer with your family because of her. I don’t know why Auntie is so nice to her, making her daughter shirk her duties to Allah…what was she even doing at your house?”

“Shut up. It’s none of your business,” I hiss, shrugging off her hand. Aïda raises her eyebrows and turns to join the others.

 

"Thanks for inviting me over, Safiya," Marion says on the way back to my apartment to get her car.

 

"Thanks for coming over! My parents don't get to see very many people unless it's customers or mosque-goers."

 

"They're lovely people; they deserve more guests! Do you bring your work friends over?"

 

"Sometimes. Other times I'm scared they'll be freaked out by the food. Have you ever had doogh?"

 

"I've never even heard of it. What is it?"

 

"It's basically liquid yogurt with mint. I think it's great, but some of my friends think it tastes like spoiled milk."

 

"Well, that's their problem, not yours. You were born into this."

 

"Yeah, I guess that is right. I've pretty much been surrounded by yogurt my entire life." We both laugh as I pull up next to her car in front of my building.

 

"Haha! Well, nevertheless, I had a good time today. I'll see you around?"

 

"Yeah! See you!"

 

She's about to get into the driver's seat of her own car when I get a sudden urge to...

 

"Wait! Marion! I have to ask you something!"

 

"What's wrong?" She looks...oddly hopeful. I wonder why?

 

"Um...I was talking to my parents while you were gone and...they thought and I thought I should ask you if...if you wanted to go out sometime? Like, on a date...?"

3:30: Marion

 _Holy shit she’s asking me out for real this time what the fuck what the fuuuuuuck_ wait no. I shouldn’t. I can’t. I want to be with her, so badly, but there’s too much at risk. Her religion, my own hangups…she shouldn’t have to deal with that. I have to let her down quickly, but gently…

3:30: Safiya

She seems to think about it for a moment. I feel my hopes rising, but...

"I don’t think we should."

I knew it. I shouldn't have even asked. "Oh...okay. That's fine," I say, trying not to look too disappointed. The atmosphere is suddenly a lot heavier. "I guess I'll...see you around then?"

No response. I close the door to her car and she pulls out of the driveway. I get into my own car, and I feel a sudden stinging in my eyes. My heart literally drops into my stomach. Why on earth did I do that? Even if she was gay, that doesn't mean she's interested! And now she probably thinks I'm some kind of creep. Way to go, Safiya!

3:55: Marion

Once I get home I grab a pillow and sob violently into it, mourning my poor choices.

What the fuck was that?! "I don’t think we should"?!? Is that your definition of “quickly but gently”, brain?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!! Still... I suppose it's for the best. Sooner or later she'd know about...

3:55: Safiya

I sit on my couch, completely numb. I want to cry, but I just can’t. I don’t know what it is.

My father calls and asks me how it went, and I want to say, “She said no,” but instead I just break into ugly sobs.

“Safi…?! What’s wrong?! Did it go badly?!”

“Ss-s-she hates me, Papa! I know it! I asked her out, and---and she was like, ‘I don’t think we should,’ and--and that’s literally all she said! Oh God, what if she thinks I’m some sort of f-fedora tipping, entitled brat?!” I wail.

“Calm yourself, child! It’s not the end of the world! At least you took that chance! Take comfort in that.”

“But--but I still shouldn’t have assumed she was gay! She’ll never speak to me agai-hai-hain!!”

“There are plenty of fish in the sea, Safiya. You’ll find someone, I know!”

I hang up and sob until my head hurts and my eyes dry out completely, and I pass out on the couch.

…

July 21, 5:00: Marion

I’ve spent what free time I’ve had in the past few days staring at Safiya’s entry in my contacts, my thumb hovering over the call button.

In fact, that’s what I’m doing now, in the back office, while Mina tries out helping customers on her own.

I don’t know why I torture myself like this; it’s not as though she’s ever going to speak to me or want to be around me again, not after Sunday. I might as well pick myself up and at least _try_ to keep my emotional baggage from losing me customers.

I exit my office, take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and approach a young woman and two men who look a bit lost. A perfect distraction.

“Hi! Welcome to Decampe Décor. How may I help you folks?”

The girl turns around, slightly startled. “Oh! Hi! Um, my brothers and I were just looking for a new chair for my house?”

“You’ve come to the right place! I have quite a few chairs over here…” I say, leading them to a collection I’ve recently acquired. “Now I think you’ll really like this one; it’s—“

Blue suede.

Safiya’s favorite color.

My vision blurs and my eyes moisten. I only realize that I’ve been staring at the chair for the past five seconds when one of the boys says, “Um…excuse me, are you okay? You got quiet all of a sudden.”

I come to my senses, and bite back my tears. “Er…yes, forgive me. I’m alright. So it’s this one then?”

“Yes, I absolutely love it! How much is it?” She asks eagerly, bouncing in the chair.

“Ah…it’s 255.95 plus tax,” I reply, still slightly numb, pulling off the large tag. “You can take this up there and Mina will ring you up.”

“Thank you so much!” The girl beams, taking the tag and walking towards the counter. Yes, please, get it away from me…

Her brothers, meanwhile, take either side of the chair and take it outside to load it into the back of their pickup.

The taller of the two comes inside to check on his sister. “This is the fastest we’ve been out of a store. Usually whenever we go out like this Vicky will take an hour trying to choose between 3 of the same lamp in different colors. Thanks for your help,” He says shaking my hand. “Of course; I aim to please!” I say, chuckling somewhat nervously.

After they leave, I finally let my face fall, and walk towards the counter to lean on it. “That…was exhausting,” I sigh.

From the corner of my eye, I see Mina’s bewildered expression. “Exhausted? _You?_? How’s that?”

Oops.

Well, I figured she’d catch on eventually. You start to show a bit of wear after faking emotional stability for two weeks.

But I don’t need to regale her with my stupid girl problems. She seems genuinely concerned, though…

I know! I’ll speak metaphorically. Maybe she’ll just think I’m being all mentor-y or something.

“So, Mina, let’s say I have a friend named, er…Marvin, who has a friend named Stu. They’re really good friends and like to hang out a lot. Well, one day, Stu asks Marvin if he would like to go on a date with him.”

Mina tilts her head. “Aww!”

 “The thing is, Marvin likes Stu, too, and wants to go on this date he’s proposing, but he doesn’t think it’d be a good idea because of…personal reasons,” I say, looking down and fidgeting with my hands. “He wants to let Stu down gently, because, again, Stu is a very good friend, but he also wants to drop the matter as soon as possible so that they can move on, and those two factors make him blurt out a really harsh rejection that leaves Stu with obviously hurt feelings, right?” I come behind the counter and stand next to Mina.

“Well of course,” She says, matter-of-factly.

“And Stu hasn’t called or texted or anything for the past two weeks and Marvin doesn’t bother trying to call him because he’s pretty sure that it’s because Stu hates him now, after being shot down like that.” Mina frowns, putting a hand to her chin. “Do you think it would be okay for Marvin to at least _try_ to call and apologize?”

“Hmm…well, has Stu implied that Marvin owes him anything in the way of a relationship or sex as a reward for his friendship?”

“No! Stu has been great, since they met. He hadn’t even hinted at liking Marvin until he straight-up asked him out!”

“Then I think that it would be a good idea to try to apologize, yes. It would be nice to reassure Stu that he wasn’t wrong in asking Marvin on a date, in this circumstance.”

I think about it for a moment. “That’s a good idea. You’re a good kid, Mina. Listen, I’ve got some paperwork I need to review in the back. Can I leave this to you again?” I say, once again retreating to my lair.

“I’ll certainly do my best, ‘Marvin’,” she replies, grinning at me.

Probably should’ve expected that, too.


	8. Chapter 8

I thought it pointless to wear my hijab at all this week. My self-confidence is shot. Megan is happy about seeing my bare head again, though, and she tries and fails to hide it.

"Heyyyy, why the long face, Safi?" Megan swings an arm around me. Chrissakes, boss, this is not the time...

"Hey, Megan. Just had a rough week is all. I don't wanna talk about it."

"Oooh, boy troubles? I know how that is." I'm sure you do, jackass. Suddenly she slaps a folder on my desk. "Anyway, this is the next project I want to start. It's gonna be fab, and I just know you're gonna work your magic!" Classic Megan. I guess she doesn’t have to give me pity—er, _normal_ projects anymore.

 

"Ah, sure. I'll get on it." I open the folder to see what she wants and figure out how to mitigate the damage that I'm sure will be done. Greeting cards for cats. How nice.

But just as soon as I open Photoshop to achieve this nonsense, my phone buzzes. It's...Marion? She still wants to talk to me? What for??

 

5:30 pm

_Hey. I wanted to apologize for Sunday. I shouldn't have been so abrupt, after you'd been so kind to me._

 

"Abrupt"? She thinks _she_ was being rude?

5:32 pm

_No, no, it's fine! I shouldn't have been so forward, to just ask you out just because I think you *might* be gay. You don't need to explain yourself!_

 

5:33 pm

_Well...that is true, but I do still wanna talk. I close up shop at 6. Do you think you could come then so we can talk privately? I can give you the keys to the doors so you don't feel like I'm trying to lure you into anything._

 

What? Is there some kind of dark secret that she needs to tell me? I'm kinda scared now...but if nothing else, I want to remain friends, so I'll give it a shot.

 

5:35

_Okay. It's about a 15 min drive from where I am. Hopefully that's not too long?_

 

5:35

_That's perfect. I'll see you then!_

 

I try to think of the things she could tell me. Is she part of a drug cartel? Does she fund some kind of anarchist organization? Is she a Martian?? I don't like that kind of excitement!!

 

(July), 6:07: Marion

 

I've just seen Mina off and turned off the Open sign as well as most of the lights at DD, except for two near the door so that Safiya will know I'm still here. I fold my hands in front of me and think about what I'm about to do. I've run this through a million times in my head but I can't shake the thought that this might cause her to be disgusted with me. It took me days to even get up the courage to talk to her again. I have to at least be honest with her, though, because it’s what she deserves. No going back now. But something in me still wants to know if there's a chance that we could--

 

"Marion? It's me. I hope I didn't keep you waiting long." She's here, already?! Shit, I'm still not ready!!

 

"You're...you're earlier than I thought you’d be," I stammer, turning to face her, digging in my pocket. "Like I promised, here's the key. I've left the door unlocked from the inside too," I say, pushing the door open to show her.

 

"Marion, your hands are shaking. Are you okay?" Wait, they are? Shit, they are. I fold my arms in front of me to get them to stop.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I lie. Oh god, I'm really doing this, this was such a mistake I've fucked up so badly goddammit goddammit goddammit--!!

 

"So what was it that you needed me to know?" She looks genuinely curious, maybe even a little scared.

 

Okay. Stop stalling. Stop wasting her time. Might as well get it out now. Just look her in the eye and do it.

 

"Alright. First of all, I wanna say I’m sorry for just shooting you down like that. I know I should have been gentler. But it wasn't because of my sexual orientation. I'm out to most of the people I know, and I do wanna go out with you."

 

She blushes a deep red and her eyes widen. "R-Really?"

 

"Yes, and honestly, given your religion, I was surprised that you asked me out first. But there's something I need to warn you about. You're welcome to refuse me if you want, because I know this is kind of a scary thing for a lot of people. I won’t think any less of you for it."

 

"Of course," she says, smiling gently. Still so sweet, even after I turned her away. Hopefully that sweetness remains after this.

 

"Okay. The reason I said I didn't want to go out is that sooner or later, over the course of our relationship, you would discover that I am part of the BDSM community."

"Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“…I think I’ve seen stuff about it, but I’m not really sure what it entails." She furrows her eyebrows.

 

"It's a bit complicated, but it basically means that I...like to make use of things like ropes during sex. It does vary in intensity, but that's usually what it entails. It’s been at the center of…issues…in my past relationships.” Might as well be honest about that, too.

Safiya hums sympathetically, furrowing her eyebrows.

“But please understand that if you decide to pursue a romantic relationship with me anyway, I will do my best to ensure that you get what you want and what you deserve out of it. I promise I won't do anything beyond what you're willing to do, and I promise that I would never do anything to hurt you until you absolutely wanted me to, and only in a sexual context. If we decide to have sex, I am perfectly alright with only vanilla sex, and I will do everything in my power to make you feel comfortable in that respect. If you don't want to do any of that, that's okay, too. It's your choice. Your amazing friendship is more than enough." I take a deep breath and try to read Safiya's expression. Her brow is furrowed slightly, but she doesn't look to be about to bolt. I stay completely silent, giving her time to answer.

 

After what seems like an eternity, she takes a deep breath as well, and says, "Alright. I trust you. I do want to be in a relationship with you. I will probably wanna have sex, eventually. I'll have to do more research about BDSM when I get home, but for right now I want to take it slow and really get to know you. I want you to know that you can trust me, too."

 

I'm deadass about to cry. This is better than I could've imagined. "Um...o-okay! Then...then let's try this again. Yes, I would like to go out with you, Safiya. When and where would you like to go as a proper first date?"

 

She smiles at me again, brushing a tear from my eye and taking my hands, rubbing the backs with her thumbs. "There's this Italian place that I've heard good things about not too far from here. Wanna go Saturday night?"

 

"S-sure! I'll pick out my best outfit!" My hands are shaking again as I take the keys from her, but for completely different reasons. This is one of the best things that could happen to me. SHE is one of the best things that could happen to me.

 

As I walk her to her car, I tell her, "You have no idea how relieved I am that you still feel comfortable around me."

 

"Of course! I know so much about you and your life already; this is just another part of it that I might want to explore."

 

"Safi, you barely even know what it is, what you getting all excited for??" She smiles at me. "What? Is there something on my face?"

 

"You just called me Safi~!" She says in a teasing manner. Oops.

 

"Oh, well, uh...I just, um..." I stammer, blushing.

 

"It's okay. Most everyone I know calls me Safi, anyway. It's only fitting that you get to, too," she replies, taking my hand in hers. Oh my God, her hands are so soft.

 

"Alright then, _Safi._  I'll text you. Er...can I...?"

 

She thinks about it for a moment, then gives me a quick peck on the lips and I nearly die. "I look forward to it, Mario! See ya!"

 

She drives away leaving me to touch a finger to my lips, dumbstruck. This is happening. This is really happening. I told her about my kink to save myself the heartbreak later and she just accepted it, like I had just told her I like chocolate ice cream. I can never let her go.

 

July 21, 7:00 pm: Safiya

I can barely keep straight on the road home, I'm so excited. My lips are still tingling. I can't believe Marion wants to be with me! Relationship-like!

How is this even possible? I mean, I knew she liked me enough to do fun friend things together, but I didn’t know she liked me enough to wanna kiss me and hold my hand and…and…and…

I squeal internally. I’ve been in serious relationships before, but nothing like this, not where I felt such a connection with the other person beforehand. This time around I really feel like I’m entering into something meaningful with my best friend. I can _not_ fuck this up.

 

 

But I just realized: I know Marion said we didn’t have to end up having sex at all, but I know almost nothing about BDSM. Basic sex, definitely, but not this kind of thing.

While I decide on an outfit for Saturday night, I think about looking it up on the Internet, but it might turn up something…horrible. I want to hear it from Marion first. I just have to find the right time…

July 23, 7:15pm

I’ve dolled myself up as best I can, in a dark blue hijab, a matching dress with a short-sleeved jacket and the highest heels I own, along with makeup that’s slightly less subtle than I’m used to. I sweatily clutch a bunch of carnations in my hands.

God, I’m nervous. Just talking about the date was so easy, but now that we’re actually doing this my heart will not slow down. On top of that, there’s so much that could go wrong tonight, my dress could rip, my makeup could smear, the flowers could spontaneously die, please Allah, just—

“Um…” I hear a voice behind me. Spinning around, I see Marion wearing a red bandage dress, with a short sleeved jacket just like mine, holding something behind her back.

“Oh my gosh, Marion! You look so pretty!”

Marion squeaks in the most adorable way, but straightens up and clears her throat. “Ah…thank you.  I actually bought this a bit ago, but I never got the chance to wear it.” She fidgets a bit. “Um…I got you these!” She pulls her hand from behind her back, revealing a huge bouquet of blue bellflowers. I blush. “Ohhh, thank you so much! How did you know I liked blue?”

“Well, you wear it a lot, so I figured I should try my luck…?”

“They’re gorgeous! Now I can return the favor!” I replied, revealing the carnations.

“Oh, wow! Thanks!” Marion exclaims, taking the flowers and messing with the petals a bit. “I guess I do give off that vibe, huh?”

…

The date almost doesn’t feel like a date; it just feels like I’m spending time with my best friend, but at the same time I know we’re going to become so much more.

“Oh my god, that was _way_ too much spaghetti. The meatballs were half as big as the bowl!” Marion cries as we leave the restaurant.

“…But you ate all of it, meatballs included,” I reply incredulously, doggie bag filled with chocolate cake in hand.

“Hey, I’m a bottomless pit,” she says, shrugging.

We stop in a park across the street from the restaurant and sit on a bench facing the busy street. A nice breeze rolls through, rustling the trees. It’s still fairly light out, being the summer, so there are still ducks wandering around.

“I um…I had a good time tonight, Safi. You have good taste.”

“You think so? I’ve never gone there before tonight. Lucky break, I guess, heh.”

She hums her agreement, and rests her head in her hand. I catch her stealing glances at my own right hand. Taking the hint, I scoot closer to her, reach under her wrist and tangle our fingers together. She looks at our joined hands and gasps softly, then exhales. She brings our hands into her lap and strokes the back of my hand, resting her head against mine.

“You know, this reminds me so much of Turtle Back. I had no idea it would turn out like this…” she says, barely above a whisper.

“Mhm. I know your hand felt like it was supposed to be there. It feels that way now,” I reply, squeezing her hand. She moves her head to press her lips to the top of mine.

I suppose now is as good a time as any, before we got too deep into it.

“So, Marion...I want to know something, and it’s related to what we talked about Friday.”

“Hmm?”

“…How did…” I’m struggling to find the words. “How did your life turn out the way it is now? I mean, before all this?”

She sighs. “I guess I would’ve had to tell you this sooner or later. You best get comfy, hun.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_June 2, 2013, 9pm : Marion._

_I am riding high right now. I met with my advisor earlier this week, to confirm that everything was in place for me to graduate, and I’ve hung my dress and my cap and gown on my bathroom door so they’ll be ready for tomorrow morning._

_Tomorrow will probably be the best day of my life. I’ve worked 4 long years full of late nights, turned down parties and thousands of hours in the library for this, and after tomorrow I will finally be able to work towards my dreams._

_And the best part is that me and Samantha are gonna do it together._

_Suddenly there’s a forceful knock at my door. I go to open it, and see Samantha, staring angrily at me._

_“Sammy? Is something wrong?”_

_“Don’t call me that. I just came to tell you it’s over.”_

_I shake my head and blink twice. “What?? Baby, what do you mean? What—“_

_“Quiet. You know that radical women’s association that I’ve been meeting with, lately?”_

_“Um, yeah…?”_

_“Well, we’ve been talking a lot about that whole BDSM thing you like so much, and after a lot of consideration, I’ve decided that I need you to stay the hell away from me, before you do any lasting damage.”_

_“Okay, hold on, come inside and we can talk about—“_

_“Seriously? You want me to_ talk _to you about it?  How do I know you’re not just gonna try to tie me up and fuck me and pretend everything’s gonna be fine?”_

_“I---uh—wha--?”_

_“Well, it won’t, I’ll tell you that much. I’m not gonna let you brainwash me or yourself anymore. If you see me at commencement tomorrow, do not attempt to talk to me, or even make eye contact with me, or I will report you.”_

_She slams the door shut in my face. Literally, reaches into my apartment and shuts it._

_After that I stagger to my couch, slowly processing what just happened. My girlfriend of two years…just broke up with me…the day before we’re supposed to graduate…because someone put it into her head that I was sexually abusing her._

_I sit on the edge of the futon that we’ve shared countless nights together, staring blankly at the floor. My hands ball into fists at my knees and tears drip onto the floor between my legs._

_I can’t believe this. How could she do this to me, after so long?! We were going to build our empires together! Support each other! Why would she leave after just one talk about something I was sure she enjoyed, something that shouldn’t even take precedence in our relationship?_

_My head hits the pillow and I feel the hot tears flow onto it. It gets into my hair, my ears, stings my eyes, but I couldn’t care less. I cry myself to sleep that night, and dream of what could have been…_

_I see me and Samantha ruling the world, owning huge skyscrapers built in our town and everywhere else in the world…_

_But reality has come back the moment my alarm sounds at 5:30 the next morning, to laugh in my face. In response, I bat my alarm clock off my bed stand and turn on the lamp, which burns my eyes and makes my already throbbing head feel worse. Walking to the bathroom and looking in the mirror, I see that my eyes are so bloodshot it looks like I burst a blood vessel. I stare at the ceiling for a moment, then fling open my medicine cabinet and take hold of the Clear Eyes on the middle shelf, and practically shoot it into my eyes. It is **not** going to look good if I look like I smoked one of those joints with 5 ends last night._

_As I continue my normal routine, and apply the make-up I got specifically for this day, I decide that I am not about to let that…that…gullible idiot ruin this day for me. I’m just gonna have to fake it until I have time between all the festivities to wallow in self-pity._

_And besides, I can rule the world with or without her._

_…_

_……_

_………_

_“Yo, Marion! Over here!” As soon as I enter the pavilion where we were told to cool our heels until the ceremony, I hear a voice call out to me. My best friend since 11 th grade and a music history major, Wednesday Amano, is waving wildly at me near the entrance. I run as fast as I can in my 5-inch heels and throw myself into her arms, and she spins me around twice before setting me back down. “God, I can’t believe it. We’re about to graduate together for the second time in a row!” She exclaims, grasping my shoulders._

_“I know!”_

_“By the way, where’s Samantha? I thought she was gonna meet us here? Didn’t y’all have that ‘rule the world’ thing you were gonna do when you got back to Jersey?”_

_I feel a lump come to my throat almost immediately and my eyes start burning again, but I force myself not to cry, for the sake of my eyeliner. Still, Wednesday catches on._

_“Whoa, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen??” She asks, her brow furrowing in concern._

_“Ah…nothing. It’s not important right now. I’ll tell you later.”_

_“Okay…”_

_The ceremony goes well. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie came to speak to us about what kind of power our generation has and not to let petty things get in the way. It really speaks to me. In fact, that’s what I’m going to do. I have more pressing issues._

_Wednesday’s family and my own meet at a nearby Italian restaurant to celebrate. Mama made reservations beforehand, because for some reason everyone comes here when they graduate. We’re all having a good time when Mama asks:_

_“Hey, Marion, I’d reserved a table for 9. Where’s Sammy and her parents?”_

_My throat tightens again, but this time I can’t stop the tears from coming. “Uh…I have to go the bathroom. ‘Scuse me…” I say quickly, though my voice obviously cracks, and fast-walk to the nearest bathroom._

_Once there, I fall into a bathroom stall, and give up any appearance of stability, bracing my hands against the walls and letting the tears pour._

_I hope at the very least I can compose myself before anyone misses me, but just then I hear high heels clicking into the bathroom. At first I think maybe it’s just a random patron, but…_

_“Marion? Are you in here? You’ve been gone for, like, ten minutes; What the fuck is going on?”_

**_Fuck!_ **

_I sniff back snot and croak, “In…in the first stall.”_

_Wednesday’s feet face the door of my stall. “Marion, I know you’ve been faking it. You get real stiff when you’re faking it. Just tell me.”_

_Five seconds of silence._

_Then, in one long, painful breath, the whole story comes out, about Samantha, about our future plans, about that club of hers, everything. Wednesday stays silent the entire time._

_“…And I told myself that I have more important things to think about than some stupid girl, and I could rule the world on my own, but…”_

_“Let me in there.”_

_“I—wha??”_

_“Let me. In there.”_

_I unlock the stall door, and Wednesday bursts in, flinging her arms around me. I’m dumbstruck for a moment, but then return the hug, sobbing into her shoulder._

_We return to our table, and everyone gives us worried looks. “Marion, are you alright? You were in there for a while!” Wednesday’s mom exclaims._

_“I’m alright, Mrs. Amano. A bit of trouble, is all,” I reply, flashing a shaky smile._

_That evening, my parents take me home so I can start packing up over the next few days. The next morning, physically refreshed but emotionally exhausted, I stare at the ceiling above my bed, trying to reevaluate my life and my priorities. Wednesday calls my cell, breaking me out of my trance._

_I answer it. “Hey.”_

_“How you holding up?”_

_“Well, I slept ok. That’s about it.”_

_“Oh sweetie…”_

_“I just…I didn’t know people thought about BDSM in those terms. I didn’t think I was coercing her into anything. If she had just told me…”_

_“Marion, I know you. I know you wouldn’t force a girl into anything that heavy. You think I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you were abusing her?”_

_“I guess. What do I do now?”_

_“Well, obviously don’t talk to her. It sounds like she was ready to put a restraining order out on you. But listen, if and when you’re up to it, I know about a place where you can be surrounded by people who get it. They can teach you a thing or two. But only when you’re ready.”_

_“Alright. If anything, it’ll distract me. What’s it called?”_

_“Hang on, I’ll send something.”_

_She texts me a link to a website. I click through and what I see is a very grungy looking home page to a sex club called “The Get Down: Where all your fantasies come true…”_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

“And the rest is history,” She says, grinning at me.

By now, it’s gotten dark. All the streetlights are on and the streets are even busier.

I’ve been staring motionless at her this entire time, I realize, so I blink a few times and shake my head.

“Oh. Oh, wow…” I gasp.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have let her get to me like that. My professors would talk all the time about having a thick skin in our line of work, and I’m a blubbering mess because a girl broke up with me. Sound like a real go-getter, don’t I?” Marion laughs humorlessly, leaning forward and dropping her chin into her hand, staring at a duck in the fountain. We sit in silence for a moment.

…Should I say something? I open my mouth, but then bite my lip and stare at the folded hands in my lap.

_No, Safiya, keep quiet. She’s a self-made woman. It’s not like she needs your assurance or your approval. Stay in your lane._

_But…what if she_ wants _me to say something? You don’t just ignore a story like that._

She scoffs.

“But, whatever, right? If she leaves, she leaves. It was gonna happen sooner or later. I must look pretty small right now, huh?”

_What? Does she really think that? She’s always seemed so much larger than life to me, but now she seems even bigger._

I take a deep breath. “Actually…I…I don’t think it was fair of her to just abandon you like that.”

Marion’s brow furrows. “What’s unfair about it? She thought she was being abused. I can’t contradict her.”

“I know, and she has her rights. But…” I stammer, and look straight at her. “But it just sounds like she came up with it out of the blue, like there hadn’t been any signs of it before, not even when you guys…”I clear my throat. “I just…I feel like it’s an insult to your intelligence, and to hers, to assume that you were brainwashed into enjoying something like that.”

She looks down and shrugs. “I mean, I guess. You really think so?”

  
I nod. “And, for what it’s worth…I think it’s so much better that you feel that strongly about it, especially after 2 years. Obviously she meant a lot to you. I don’t think even the world’s best lawyer would be able to just throw something like that away. It’s not human.”

She chuckles and puts an arm on the bench behind me. “Choice words. I’ve been telling myself that for years but it never seemed to stick. I just thought no one would care.”

“I’m a natural Shakespeare,” I say, puffing up my chest.

“Mmm, iono bout all det…” Marion drawls, scratching the nape of her neck.

“Oh, whatever!

 

 

We walk back to her car together. “I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“Yeah! Um…”

Suddenly, I notice that we’re standing really close together. Her face, and her lips, are an inch across from mine. I blink once…

We stare at each other’s lips for a moment…

I swallow…

And then press my lips against hers, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes widen for a second but then she reciprocates, pushing against me. It’s a shy kiss; she’s keeping her tongue firmly in her own mouth. I still feel a certain stirring though…

We separate, both breathing a little hard. Marion speaks first.

“Wow…that was…”

“Unexpected?”

“Yeah…”

“I dunno what happened, I just…”

“No, no, it’s okay! I…I liked it. Kinda feels nice not to start a kiss for once.”

I blush, and stammer, “Ah…so I-I’ll see you around, yeah? Drive safe!”

“Of course, hon. You get home safe, too, you hear?”

I take a deep, shaky breath, but nod. “I’ll see you!”

I take my shoes off and run home with them in my arms.

9:30 pm: Safiya

I close the door to my apartment and stand with my back against it. What was that back there? Obviously it felt nice to kiss her, but I felt something else, something… more carnal.

_Were you seriously thinking about fucking her on the first date? Gross._

_She doesn’t have to know that. She_ can’t _. It’s not important anyway._

_Maybe. There’s just one issue though._

I notice that my panties are slightly damp. I look this way and that, though I’m the only person here, lift up my skirt and stick a hand down my drawers. My vagina is covered with a slick substance.

I don’t know whether to feel relieved or mortified. Relortified?

I settle on relortified as I flop onto my bed back first, my left hand still down my panties. I’m not playing with myself (yet) but I want to. I want Marion to have her way with me.

No, it’s still too early! She’s so much more than that!

 _Oh, what’s “too early”, anyway, Safi?_ I imagine Marion purring in my ear as she lies next to me. Oh God, I _am_ fantasizing!

“But we just started dating! I wouldn’t feel right asking you to do it so early!” I say, even though I can feel myself starting to flush. I speak in hushed tones so my neighbors can’t hear me.

_Safi, I know what you’re about. I don’t mind at all. Only if you want to though._

I think about it for a moment. Then I nod. I'll probably regret this later, but I've already created the narrative. I might as well finish it. 

_I’ll go nice and slow so just tell me when to stop…_

I nod again, biting my lip. I strip off my dress and my jacket and cast them on the floor next to my bed, leaving me only in my underwear and…

_Oh, hold up. You want me to take this off?_

I tug at my hijab. “No, I’ll do it,” I whisper, undoing the carnation clip and setting it on my bed stand, then unwinding my hijab and draping it over my headboard like always.

I caress my breasts through my bra, grazing my nipples with my palms. I try to gently pinch my nipples, but the silky cloth makes it hard to get a hold of them.

_Here, lemme…_

I raise my back to unclasp my bra and throw it on the floor to join my dress.

_Oh, wow…_

I pinch my nipples again, and this time it’s much easier. I roll them between my fingers, and tease them with the pads of my index fingers, causing my lower half to throb a bit. I moan softly, imagining Marion being pleasantly surprised by this.

_Oooh, so you like that, huh?_

“Mm-hmm…” I reply, biting my lip again.

_Let’s see how you’re doing down here…_

While my left hand is still playing with my nipple, I slide a hand down my panties, and tease my slit.

_Mmm, you’re so wet already. But let’s start off small…_

My finger leaves my lower lips, and instead I start working my clitoris with two, using small, light strokes.  The throbbing becomes a tingle, and can feel myself steadily getting wetter.

_That feel good, baby? You want me to go faster?_

“Please…” I whisper, and stroke faster and harder, pressing my clit into myself, feeling the pulsing start to come back.

“Fuck…Marion..it-it’s so much…”

_Mm, I know. Here…_

I run a finger along my slit one last time before taking my hand out of my panties and licking the finger clean. I call myself taking a break but I just want more.

_Bend over for me._

I turn over on my stomach, and slip off my panties. I wet my finger between my folds, and slip a finger inside, slowly pumping in and out. I breathe heavily, biting my pillow to stifle my moans.

_Goddamn, your pussy is so tight, baby…it’s almost sucking me in~_

“Marion, I—ahh! Nngh, fuck! Yes!” I curl my finger into my g-spot, making myself gasp. With my other hand I rub my clit, and I’m getting close so much faster.

“Oh fuck…Marion…Marion, I’m gonna cum…!”

_Yeah? Go ahead and cum whenever you want, baby…_

A couple more seconds and I press my face into my pillow, feeling my pussy squeezing around my finger. I thrust it as fast as I can inside me, trying to make my orgasm last for as long as possible. After about 5 seconds, it fades, and my torso practically drops onto my bed.

I didn’t regret that at all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls begin to establish themselves

**Chapter 11**

 

8:30, July 25: Marion

“You seem to be in a very good mood today, Ms. Decampe!” Mina says, noting the bounce in my step as we walk to the store together.

“Let’s just say recent developments have positively influenced my mood,” I reply, unlocking the right front door and switching the OPEN sign on in the window. “But enough about that. People are gonna be coming in soon, so we have to clear our minds.”

“Right! Oh, but there is one thing I need to speak with you about beforehand…”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Well, classes are going to resume soon, so at some point I need to modify my schedule.”

I gasp softly, “Oh, that’s right! Can’t have you missin’ classes. Yeah, remind me to do that after we close up today.”

She smiles. “Thank you. Although…usually around this time of year university students tend to flock to furniture stores to get things for their apartments and such, don’t they? Do you think we’ll be alright?”

Oh shit. I ain’t think of that…

“Miss Decampe?”

Realizing that I zoned out, I shake my head and address her. “Ah, sorry! You’re right though. We’ve had a lot of experience with younger customers, so we should be fine.”

We don’t turn out fine.

Within 30 minutes of opening, the store is teeming with 20-somethings who are content to spend _at least_ an hour circling around, looking at the same things.

A girl with green hair who just graduated from high school is trying to decide between two of the same lamp in _very_ similar colors. “I dunno, the ruby one looks like it’d fit more with my aesthetic than then cherry one, don’t you think?”

“Honestly, miss, I couldn’t tell. I don’t have your eye for colors.”

“Oh, stop it!” She gushes, in an obvious display of faux modesty. “You’re right though.”

This causes me to blink several times. I brush it off and continue to listen to her ramble.

I look to my left and see Mina trying to help a 3rd year art student pick out a couch for his new apartment. He flops down into all of them at least 4 or 5 times. “I need to see which one feels the most…in sync with my surroundings.”

“In sync, sir?”

“Yeah. The vibes need to mesh with the atmosphere. It can’t be too comfy, you understand.”

When I’m _finally_ done with Green Hair, I must assist a grad student who is crowing about—er, _requesting_ a wall piece to join her other wall pieces. “I can _not_ have any negative space in my house. Every space needs to be filled, or it won’t work.”

As Mina and I zip around the entire store trying to answer every ridiculous request, my mind turns to Safiya. Hopefully she’s having a better time than I am right now…

3:30 pm: Safiya

I haven’t stopped thinking about what happened Saturday night. Even after I got to work and buried myself in my projects, I get little flashes of memory, and my heart skips a beat.

Marion’s story…our first “real” kiss…running home and touching myself while imagining that Marion was with me…

I felt so bold after that. Somehow, it made me confident enough to start wearing my hijab again. I haven’t seen Megan all day; she’s probably shut up in her office again, thinking of some other nonsensical promotion, surely.

“So? How did the date go?” Lauren says teasingly, sidling up to my desk. I glance up at her and give her a half-smile. “Lauren, you know you’re not supposed to ask me about stuff like that during business hours.”

“Just pretend we’re talking about work!”

I snort but go along with it. “It was really nice. Honestly, we’d already decided that we were gonna be a thing. This was a formality. She did tell me things about her past that she wasn’t particularly proud of, but we’re gonna work through it. Also, I got to kiss her!”

Her eyes widen in mock-surprise. “Whaaat? My little Safi, taking the initiative? That’s new.”  

I swat at her playfully. “Shut up! It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I’m still really happy though. I felt so brave after that and…” She can never know… “…and now I feel like I need to do something else with this bravery.”

Right then, Megan bursts through the back doors, no doubt with some new scheme. “Everyone! I’ve just thought of something for the back-to-school crowd!”

Oh no.

“And, Safiya, I just know you’re gonna work wonders with what I have in…” She turns to me and registers that the hijab is once again around my head.

Oh _no_.

She immediately turns to Lauren.

“ _What the fuck, Lauren? I thought we were done with that rag around her head.”_ She hisses at a volume that she thinks I can’t hear, looking at me sideways. Lauren looks at her askance, arms crossed.

“I never said anything like that. I never said anything at all, to either of you, and I wasn’t planning to.” Lauren deadpans at a normal volume. “This has nothing to do with you, Megan, it’s not your body.”

“This has everything to do with me! This is part of my mission!” Megan responds, her pitch rising.

_Her “mission”, huh?_

Even though my brain is screaming at me not to, I get up and walk towards them, coming up behind my manager. “Um, Megan, listen, I—"

“Hang on, Safiya…how can I call myself advancing the place of women if I ignore what’s going on in front of me?”

“I see where you’re coming from, but that’s what you’re doing right now.” Lauren replies, jerking her chin in my direction.

“Yeah, Megan, just—”

“Safiya, give me a second…you’re only making my job harder by not doing your part!”

_She’s not gonna get it with this weak shit you’re doing. You gotta barge in._

I clench my fists, set my jaw, and try to stop myself, but

“ ** _Megan!”_ ** I shout, and when I open my eyes, everyone is looking at me.

Shit shit shit shit shit I’ve fucked up now

“Safiya, what do you need?? Why are you being so loud?” Megan asks, rounding on me. Well, no turning back.

“It’s j-just…I need you to listen to me. I would really like it if you—No, I need you to-to…” I swallow back spit. Come _on!_ “I need you to stop riding Lauren about my hijab and actually talk to me about it. I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable about it—”

Megan scoffs. “It’s not about me! I’ve told Lauren this—”

I put up my hands and continue. “Let me finish: I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable about my hijab, but this is part of my heritage and part of my faith. I did hear you talking to Lauren a few weeks ago about it, and it really…it really made me angry because I didn’t feel like you respected me enough to tell me directly, even though you say you’re worried about me.”

Megan is taken aback by this. I swallow again and take a deep breath.

“So…so I think it would be better for both of us if you could treat me like a normal person and not some fragile thing to be shielded from things you think you understand.”

I fold my arms in front of me. To everyone else, it may look like I’m trying to assert myself further, but really, I’m just trying to quell the horrible shaking in my arms after what I just did. I definitely don’t need to say anything else--

“Also, I think we need to seriously discuss some of your concepts for the catalog.” _Damn it!!_

The entire office is staring at me, especially Megan, whose gaze I can feel boring into my soul. I sense that I have made the worst decision of my entire career.

Finally, Megan pushes past me and heads back into her office through the double doors, leaving me, Lauren and the others to sit in silence. I go back to my desk, and take deep breaths, because I feel like I’m about to throw up. My entire life flashes before my eyes, and a million thoughts fly through my head: Why did I do that I knew this wasn’t worth it my life is ruined I’ll never work in this town again—

Megan bursts through the doors again after 5 minutes, walks towards my desk and slams her hands on the top. My heart skips a beat, and I feel the tears prick my eyes. This is it. I brace myself for the worst, but then she says:

“Okay. If that how you feel, honestly, then…I’ll review the catalog plans, and actually try to talk to the team about them. I still feel like we need to talk about the—”

“No, we don’t,” I interject, looking her straight in the eye.

Again, Megan is taken aback, but she relents, and once more retreats to her office.

The rest of the day goes without incident. I have to wonder how Marion would handle this. Surely she wouldn’t be as exhausted as I am right now.

6:00 pm: Marion

After the first major rush of the store’s existence, we are nearly dead. I have melted into a white pleather chair near the cash register, and Mina is splayed across one of the abused leftover couches. “Miss…Miss Decampe, I…where are my legs?”

“They’re that way…” I groan, pointing in some direction.

“Ah. That explains why my head hurts so much,” She replies, and I hear her bat her arms against the seat of the couch. Wait, what?

I pick my head up from the back of the seat and slump forward, staring at the floor. “We’re seriously gonna need some help, Mina,” I say gravely, running my hands through my hair. “Between days like this and you only working part-time in the fall, I dunno how I’m gonna—”

There’s a knock at the door. My head snaps in its direction, and I see a rather short, bespectacled elderly woman in a smart pencil skirt holding a piece of paper. In my exhaustion, I have neglected to put down the shutters. I’m convinced this is the first step towards my downfall, but I pick up my voice as much as I can and say:

“I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re closed for the day. You’re welcome to come back tomorrow at 8:30!”

“You misunderstand, _ragazze_ ; I’m here to work!” The woman replies with a very obvious Italian accent.

My eyes widen. Mina and I look at each other, then towards the door, and we nearly fall over ourselves running towards it. I fling the door open and take the lady’s hand.

“Ma’am, may I say you have impeccable timing. Come in and have a seat, won’t you? Mina, turn off the Open sign, please,” I say, my previous exhaustion replaced with barely tempered excitement.

Mina does as I ask, and then runs to follow behind me. The lady releases my hand, and takes a seat on the sofa where Mina previously lay supine. I extend my hand. “Marion Decampe, proprietor and CEO of Decampe Décor! Please, tell me a bit about yourself!”

The lady seems pleasantly surprised by my enthusiasm, shakes my hand  and answers, “My name is Ilaria Adolfo. I’m from Bologna, in Italia.”

 _Oh wow._ I sit back in my chair, my eyes surely aglow by this point _._ “So what brought you to America, Signora?”

“My son is an architect. My husband and I wanted to be near him when he moved here in 2015. Santino never told me there were going to be so many _italiani! Ahimé!_

I laugh. “Yes, there is quite an extensive Italian community in New Jersey. But, I have to warn you about what to expect in this store…”

She tilts her head in my direction. “What do you mean? Do I have to join some kind of secret furniture club?” She says wryly.

“No, Signora, no clubs needed. I’m sorry the first you saw of us was in a state of total exhaustion, but there’s been a younger crowd coming in since I started my online ads, and a lot of them will be coming in all at once, asking for very specific things. I predict this will be a trend at least until school starts, and then you and I might be the only ones in the store sometimes. Mina here will only be able to come in for a few hours because she has school.” I might regret explaining this to her, but it’s the truth. “So…with this in mind, do you think you’ll be able to meet the demands for the rest of the season?”

Mrs. Adolfo looks at me over her glasses. “Miss Decampe, please. I was a nurse for 38 years. I’ve seen outbreaks of the flu, terrorist attacks, injured _Mafiosi_ , all sorts of things. Do you believe me scared of a few college kids?”

I look at Mina. She looks back at me, silently urging me to take her on.

“I…alright, let me get you an application!”

As I head back to my office to find it, I’m filled with a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, my little furniture store will make it after all.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marion and Safiya meet an old friend and get wasted

**Chapter 12**

July 30, 4:00pm

“No, no, my dear, what you need are complimentary colors; if everything is the same color it won’t work!”

“You can’t overthink the feeling of the couch, sir, or else you’ll end up with a blank space!”

The new addition is going well. _Very_ well. Mrs. Adolfo is aggressive enough to get the customers to make a decision, but gentle enough to allow them to lead them into that decision at a slope rather than a sharp drop. I lean on the counter beside Mina, who is at the cash register as usual, and watch Mrs. Adolfo work.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she, Mina? I’m so glad I hired her.”

“Quite amazing, Ms. Decampe. This was a very good decision on your part,”

“I think so too,” I reply, puffing up my chest a bit, making Mina giggle. Suddenly, my cell rings in my office. It’s Safiya, and I know because I have a very specific ringtone for her.

I bound into my office and accept the call. “Hi, sweetie! How you doin’?”

“Not great.” Wait, what?

“Safi, what’s up? Did something happen?” I ask, now concerned.

“Um… could you come over after you close up shop? I need to talk to you.”

Oh god. Something happened at work, I know.

I exit my office and Mina can see right through me, as always.

“His something happened, Miss Decampe? You seem a bit sullen.”

“Naw, I’m good. Personal stuff…”

I’m quiet the rest of the day.

6:20 pm: Safiya

Saint that she is, Marion brings me a case of Jones when she appears at my door. She kisses me on the lips and pushes a bottle into my left hand. We sit on my futon together while I vent my spleen.

 

"She said she'd try to stop giving me projects on a whim, but I don't know...her definition of that may be different from mine."

 

 She puts an arm around me.

 

 "Still, that was so badass, the part about the hijab! I'm so fuckin' proud of you, girl!"

 

I smile faintly, and kiss her on the cheek, then take a swing of my elixir.

 

"Thanks, hon. I still have this feeling in the pit of my stomach, though. I know Lauren has my back, but like, what if Megan blacklists me?"

 

"If what little I saw of her is any indication, she won't. She knows something you're doing is keeping your clients around, and it'd be pretty damn obvious that something was up if she fired you. You have your rights."

 

 I frown and bite my lip. Marion put a hand on my leg and turns bodily towards me.

 

"Listen, I'm meeting a friend at Bdubs down the street around 7. Did you wanna come meet her?"

 

I consider it.

 

"Alright, if it'll get my mind off this week. Lemme freshen up."

 

Marion beams as I walk towards my bathroom...

 

 7:00, Buffalo Wild Wings

"Yo, Marion! Over here!"

As we walk through the double doors, Marion’s head turns in the direction of her name. The voice belongs to a girl in a short black dress, with Betty page bangs, ankle high stilettos, and full sleeves of…watercolor geometric tattoos…covering the length of both arms, standing out against all the black.

Marion’s face lights up and she runs ahead of me, jumping into the girl’s waiting arms and letting her spin her around. I follow behind at a slower pace.

“Wednesday! How the fuck are you??” Marion exclaims, slapping Wednesday on the back.

“Living my best life, like always, dude. Who’s this?” Wednesday asks, jerking her head in my direction. I flinch but compose myself and extend my hand.

“Um…hi! I’m Safiya Alfarsi.”

“Ooh, the art chick! Marion’s told me a ton about you!” She replies, taking my hand and raising her eyebrows.

I blush. “R-really?”

“Yeah, she’s been talking my ear off about how talented and sweet and adorable you are. I can tell when my best friend is in love…” Marion punches her playfully in the arm.

“Marion!” I exclaim, embarrassed but flattered.

“Well, it’s true!”

We find a booth across from the big screen TVs displaying 5 different sportsball games, and Wednesday plops into the seat across from us. I watch them talk animatedly to one another about what they’ve been doing since graduation. I just listen to their inside jokes, admiring how excited Marion is to see Wednesday again.

_So this is the girl that introduced Marion to the kink scene. Looks like a total hardass._

_Shut up._

_I’m just saying, she looks the type. Probs broken a few guys in her lifetime._

_You don’t know that._

“Hey, babe?” Marion says, snapping me out of my internal conversation.

“Ah…yeah?”

“So, I haven’t physically seen this girl in years, and we reaaaaally wanna get a couple drinks in. You wouldn’t mind if we ended up having a few beers, would you?”

I quirk my eyebrow. “Marion, I’ve seen you drunk at least once before. I think I can handle it. Besides, we walked here.” Marion squeals, kissing me on the cheek.

“Ooh, sassy~!” Wednesday teases.

“In fact…I think I’ll join you,” I say, pouring over the drink menu. In my peripheral vision, I see Wednesday and Marion look at each other.

“Dude, are you sure? I mean…” Wednesday trails off, her index finger circling around her head. “Letting us drink is one thing. Having booze yourself is another.”

 _At least she’s savvy_.

“Nah. My masjid is pretty liberal.”

She shrugs. “Alright. Just know, I already think you’re cool.”

I chuckle, blushing again. I decide on the house special, a dirty Jones: Vodka with blueberry Jones and blue curaçao. The girls order two glasses of Goose IPA each.

“That’s gonna be one blue motherfucker,” Wednesday comments.

“Hey, I’m sticking with what I know. Maybe the Jones will take my mind off the booze. Looks like you guys are going straight up, though.”

 

“We would double-fist like this all the time at Penn State.” Wednesday explains, noticing my surprised expression. “Really gets the stick out of your ass,” Marion adds.

We get our drinks, as well as a huge bucket of teriyaki wings, and while Marion and Wednesday are alternating glasses like they’ve done this since birth, I twitch and scrunch my face and have to drink some water after even a sip of my stuff.

“Hey, Safi, are you okay? The vodka getting to you?” Marion asks, rubbing my back.

I take a deep breath. “I’m good, I promise. I just don’t drink vodka very often.” Translation: at all.

Even with the wings, we all get hammered fast. We’ve been reduced to playing three-way patty-cake across the table and wondering out loud if gazelles know they’re gazelles. Soon, the conversation turns to sex.

Marion giggles. “We literally had our first kiss last Saturday. Her lips are like pillows.”

Wednesday and I wheeze-laugh.

“You tell her about the BSSM thing?”

“Wha--? Oh yeah, she knows _allll_ about that.”

“You gonna truss me up, baby?” I ask, draping my arms over Marion and kissing her lips.

“Like a Christmas sausage, one of these days!”

“Hell yeah! In fact, Safiya…Mario, can I tell her?”

“Do it~!” Marion slurs.

“In fact, right after I introduced Mario to The Gitmo…The Git Down, we did a few scenes t’gether…”

My eyes widen. “You did??”

_Hah!! Told you she was a hardass!_

“Yup. Even though I was the one to show it to her, she refused to submit. Hardcore dom, this one. Bent me in half like a…like a sandwich. She’s a pro though. You’re in good hands.”

 

We part ways at around 1am, after I exchange numbers with Wednesday, and after some fumbling with my door, we fall into my apartment on the couch, Marion falling on top of me.

She realizes what’s happened. “Oh, whoops. Here, lemme—” She makes to get up, but…

I pull down to keep her in place. “No, wait…I like this.” I run a hand through her hair and rub her back. She drops her head onto my chest, apparently enjoying the sensation. Suddenly her head pops up.

“You know whad’ I’m gonna do? I’m gonna give you an excuse to show Megan what for!”

I blink at her. “Wha…? How’re you gonna do that??”

“I want some fliers! I want you to make ‘em, and you’re gonna prove that you’re not a dumb little girl!”

I have no idea where this is even coming from, but I’m not gonna expend the brain power to think about it. I opt to shut off the power instead, passing out on my couch, without thinking to take my shoes off, even though, right before I doze off, I think I see Marion getting her phone out and texting something…


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safiya asserts herself.

**Chapter 13**

August 1

Miraculously, no one here has seen fit to deny my existence after Friday’s “performance”; everything is as it’s always been. Nice way to get back to work after a weekend of madness.

 

I’m equally thankful that I didn’t send or receive any drunk texts.

 

In fact, once I get to my desk, I see a sticky note attached to my monitor that says:

 

“Hey,

Thanks for sticking up to Megan like that.”

-John K. (lol)

It makes me smile. _Honestly, did you really think John, of all people, was gonna ditch you?_

As always, I open my email first, to look for any questions/complaints.

 

What I see, instead, is an email from Marion? I’ve been with her all weekend, though; I don’t remember her sending me anything…

I open the email…and nearly pee my pants. What I am witnessing is garbled semi-English:

 

Heyxbabe,

I need som filer s for xmy business drhing. Y tou guys did a good job las time and I really apppercieate it. I really need some flies for my thingu cuz everonyeone comes in an ill die without extra hans. Blease halp! Luv you~

Marion

I’m trying my absolute hardest not to burst into loud, confused laughter. Suddenly, I remember…

_You know whad’ I’m gonna do? I’m gonna give you an excuse to show Megan what for!”_

I didn’t think she was serious since she was drunk off her ass. Neither of us even thought about it for the rest of the weekend....

At least she sent it to _my_ email, rather than the company’s. Probably wouldn’t have reflected well on either of us otherwise.

But now what? In most cases, I would forward this to Megan, but I can’t do that; She’ll throw it out on the spot.

 

I don’t know how ethical this is, but my only recourse is to edit the shit out of it myself and send it that way. I don’t think anyone will catch on…

Just in case she was serious, before I do any editing, I create my own quick little drafts of what I think gets the point of the store across.

 

**2 hours later…**

“Alright, team! We’ve got another project from Decampe Décor~!

 

Megan bounds into the meeting room, surprising absolutely no one by this point. She sets up the computer to project and pulls up the email that I forwarded to her:

“Greetings,

This is Marion Decampe of Decampe Décor, LLC. I would like to begin by thanking you for your previous assistance in the promotion of my business.

However, I must enlist your services once more. I have recently realized that, while my clientele has increased, it will mean nothing if I lack the means to serve them properly.

As such, I would like to place an order for one hundred count of fliers, offering a position un my employ. Please call me at 872.395.7740 so that we may discuss specifics. Thank you!

Marion Decampe

CEO, Decampe Décor

872.395.7740

3448 19th Street

Livingston, NJ “

 

It’s not on the screen 10 seconds before Megan begins her pitch. “Now, I’ve already created a few mock-ups of what the fliers could look like…”

Sounds like we had the same idea.

She pulls up Photoshop to show us and ya Allah…

 

The minute her “idea” loads up, we all have to make an effort not to cringe. The background is horribly garish, with multi-colored triangles dominating the background. The font is that weird, sterile shade of dark blue that 90s Microsoft used, and I can barely see what it says, but I’m almost certain she used Bauhaus 93. All of her concepts are like this.

 

Honestly, it looks more like the “Saved by The Bell” people tried to reboot the series on a piece of paper.

“Well? What do you guys think?” Megan asks, in that oh-so-painfully-familiar “I’m so proud of myself” way. I know what she expects.

_You know what she expects, and after all her bullshit lately, you’re just gonna give it to her??_

_I know I can’t let her show this to Marion, but she’s almost always had her way with this sort of thing._

_How is this any different from last Friday??_

 

_I can’t just go to my desk and bury myself in my work this time. If I embarrass myself in front of her, I’ll actually have to look at the others for more than five minutes._

Suddenly, John raises his hand across from me and asks “Uhm, these are…great, but…these are just first drafts, right?”

_See, John’s gonna do it for me. Problem solved—_

”Nope! We’re gonna use at least one of these!”

We all look at each other.  Well, there goes that plan.

_See? You can’t expect her to listen to reason._

I take a deep breath. _Okay. I’ll start off gently…_

I tentatively raise my hand. “Um, Megan, have you seen the inside of DD? Marion’s got a pretty clear modern art thing going on, and I don’t think this really embodies it…”

Lauren speaks up as well. “The font, ah…doesn’t really scream ‘Modern Art’ either.”

“Maybe not, but it really catches the eye, don’t you think?” Megan replies, gesturing towards the screen.

“It’ll blind the eye before that happens…” I mutter under my breath.

“Safiya, did you say something?”

Everyone looks at me. She did this on purpose, I know it.

“Um…no…”

_Really? After all that, you’re just gonna back down??”_

_She’s baiting me! I know she is!_

_Even so…do you really ant Marion to think this is your best? She sent this to you for a reason._

I’m just gonna have to bite.

“Actually…on top of the fact that no one can see what it says, the background itself is…really harsh.”

“’Harsh?’ What do you mean?”

“I mean that the colors clash way too much for this design to work. No one’s gonna _wanna_ look at it.”

By now Megan has loosely crossed her arms, a vaguely dour expression on her face. “Alright…so do you think you have a better idea for this?”

_YES! YES YOU DO!_

“Well, I wouldn’t say that…”

_UGH!!_

“But I do have an alternative.”

I pull my flash drive from my pocket and plug it in, opening my own drafts in Photoshop.

 

“So, like I said, since Marion has a modern art vibe, I decided to make something more toned down and relaxed, something that gives the reader what to expect.”

I see the others nodding their heads.

_Mashallah!_

John speaks up again. ”I think we should use Safiya’s template, Meg. It’s pretty.”

Megan looks a bit flustered. “But…but it’s so…”

“Come on boss! You’re gonna lose us  business with that Jackson Pollock nonsense you had up there!” Says Lauren, exasperated.

Megan sighs. “Alright. We’ll see how it goes. Safiya, could you call Marion’s place and tell her we got her order?”

I squeal internally and hurry to the telephone on my desk to tell Marion the good news…

11:30am: Marion

My day has gone almost perfectly so far. It’s clearance day, and we’ve already been able to sell more than enough to make room for the fall collections.

So far, everything is coming up Team Decampe! But I feel as though something’s amiss.

The phone rings suddenly, and Mina steps away from the cash register to pick it up.

“Hello, this is Decampe Décor! How may I help you? Oh, hello! I beg your pardon? I’m sorry, I don’t recall any mention of that. Hmm…alright. Alright, I’ll tell her. Thank you!”

She hangs up.

“Mina, who was that?” I ask. It sounded kinda serious.

“It was Miss Alfarsi from Designonary.”

“Really? Is she okay?”

“She sounded fine, but she said something about--”

Suddenly, Signora Adolfo calls from near the entrance. “ _Ragazze_! We’ve got company!”

Indeed, there’s a huge, unexpected rush of young customers.

“Uh, sorry, Mina, we’ll talk later. It’s showtime!”

And just like that, the conversation is lost in the rush of people…

 

11:45am – Safiya

I drop the phone and stare at my computer. I don’t even notice that Lauren has come to my desk.

“So, how’s it going?”

I gulp. “So, um…I just called them, and…and one of the employees said that Marion didn’t say anything about…about any fliers, so—” I feel like I’m about to throw up.

Lauren looks in the general direction of the meeting room and drops her voice. “Wait, what? So did you make up that email?”

I jump. “ _No!_ No, I didn’t! It’s just…take a look at this…”

I pull up the original email to show Lauren. Her eyes widen.

“ _Ay dios…”_ She mutters.

“Yeah, she sent this Saturday after we went to Buffalo Wild Wings. She was pretty wasted…”

I explain the rest to Lauren.

“And for whatever reason I didn’t think that just _maybe_ she wouldn’t remember sending this! I’m so _stupid!_ ” I whisper-scream, feeling my eyes begin to burn.

Lauren places a hand on my shoulder. “Whoa, hey, don’t say that! You’re not stupid! We’ll get this figured out. Did you say anything after that?”

I sniff and swallow my tears. “Well, um…I did tell Mina to tell Marion about Saturday, so that should buy us some time.”

“See, there we go! Hell, I’m pretty sure Megan’s on something else by now, so that’s another point in our favor. Look, don’t worry; it’s still early. We got this. I’ll keep Megan busy. Sooner or later today, they’ll pick up to confirm. Just act natural, okay?”

I take a deep breath. “Okay.”

Lauren pats me on the shoulder and heads back towards the meeting room, as I turn my hands upwards and pray that I find a way out of this…

4:30pm – Marion

There’s finally a lull in business, and Mina, Signora and I gather round the register to chat.

“Oh! Miss Decampe! There’s something I meant to tell you earlier before the madness…” Mina begins.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“As I said, earlier, Miss Alfarsi called asking about an order you made for fliers…?”

“Fliers?”

“Yes, she asked me to tell you to check your e-mail for sent items.”

I pull out my phone and open the email app. The first thing I see is an email that I apparently sent on Saturday night. It’s complete gibberish.

“Pfft, what on Earth? It’s like I wrote this when I was—”

Suddenly it hits me like a ton of bricks.

“Shit shit shit shit shit _shit shit shit shit shit!!_ ” I mutter like a crazed mantra as I fly towards the phone…

 

4:35pm – Safiya

The day’s nearly over, and the phone has been silent since lunchtime. I’m seriously considering putting in my two weeks when it suddenly rings. Oh please oh please oh please--!

“Hello this is Designonary!” I say, almost too fast.

“Hello, is this Safiya Alfarsi??”

“Speaking.”

“Safi! Thank God! I though I was too late!”

It’s Marion! God is great!

“I’m _so_ sorry! I didn’t realize you might be calling about that! I do want those fliers please, 100 count, yes!”

It feels as though a weight has been lifted from my entire being.

It takes all of 15 minutes to send her my drafts, get confirmation on which one she wants, and put a formal work order in.

I send it the group email, and begin working on it in Photoshop immediately. The day is over before I can send it to the printer, but as I’m logging out and restarting my computer, I see Lauren give me a mile and a thumbs up from the hallway.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time~! NSFW

**Chapter 14**

August 2, 10 pm: Marion

“That was _way_ too close!” Safiya exclaims, splayed out on the grass beside me, staring at the night sky.

I smile down at her, sadly. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sent you that email.”

She rolls over and places a hand on my thigh. “Well, it gave me a chance to show Megan what I’m made of, so thanks for that.” We both chuckle.

“Well, damn! I should get drunk and send you emails more often!”

“Don’t you dare!” She warns playfully, pulling me down next to her.

 

We were both absolutely exhausted after what happened yesterday, so we decided to meet in the courtyard of Safiya’s apartment complex, so we could watch the stars and be alone with our thoughts, and with each other.

 

I take Safiya into my arms, and she nuzzles her face into the crook of my neck. “Mmm…I can’t wait for you to see the posters. I’m really proud of them.”

 

“You should be. But no work talk for now. Let’s just relax. You’ve earned it.” I lace the fingers of her free hand with my own and kiss her fingers. “Besides, it’s nice to just be together like this. I wanna enjoy it.”

 

Looking up at the sky, I can _just_ see a familiar constellation. “Oh, hey, that’s Scorpius! Look where my finger is pointing.”

 

Safiya lifts her head and squints her eyes. “It just looks like a wonky J.”

“Just… imagine a scorpion over it.”

“…I kinda see it now.”

“Yeah, I took an astrology class back in school. Don’t remember most of it, but I do remember the part about constellations. It was my favorite.”

“Hm. I’ve never really been able to point stuff like that out.”

“It’s actually pretty easy once you figure out how to put ‘em together. Look. That one’s Hercules. There’s the arms and the head…looks like he’s playing soccer, really...

 

We spend the rest of the night like this, cuddling, finding constellations and making up our own…

 

August 8, 2018, 5:30 pm

 

They’re finally here! After a week of waiting, I’ve finally received my posters.

They came in a small box with the Designonary logo on it. I call Mina and Signora so we can see them for the first time together.

 

It’s just…so beautiful. The background is black, with white Bakery Script, surrounded by red roses.

 

I carefully remove about half from the box to admire them properly. I can tell Safiya’s put her heart and soul into this.

 

But enough admiration! More action! At some point, we need to get these out to the public. I think the park would be a good place to start…

We set up shop there around 6:15, when it’s park is busiest, according to Mina. Signora Adolfo couldn’t make it because she had previous commitments to her family, so we’ve brought Safiya along instead. When no one is looking, I can’t resist flirting with her.

“Waiting for potential employees sure is boring. I’d rather look at you,” I purr, taking her hand in mine and kissing it all over.

“Ooh~! How unprofessional!” Safiya giggles, pressing her hand to her face in mock embarrassment. “Come on now, you’re never gonna attract any attention making googly eyes at me,” she says semi-seriously, gently pushing my hand away.

 

I put on a serious face. “You’re right!” I stand up from my seat, and Mina and Safi look at me in amazement. “It’s time to recruit! Who wants to be recruited??”

My call is met with no response. The public continues to mill about.

I sink back into my seat, a bit deflated. Mina places a consoling hand on my shoulder, and Safiya places one on my back.

In 30 minutes, we’ve had a few people say one or two words to me, take a flier, and walk away with it, but no questions…

 

In an hour, I think I can feel my hair beginning to sweat out a bit, but foot traffic has started to pick up, and we do get a few questions, and even five email addresses.

“Okay…okay, this is good. A bit slow for my liking, but not bad for our first time!” I say, looking at the still mostly empty clipboard.

 

Safiya gives me a cookie from the bag of snacks she packed to cheer me up. “Don’t worry, sweetie. There’ll be more people, I’m sure.”

“I’m not worried,” I protest, picking up the clipboard to look at it again.

“You’ve look at that thing like 30 times. No one’s gonna be able to write anything on it if you keep hogging it.”

“Please, give it more time, Miss Decampe! You’ll lose your hair with all…that…oh no.”

I look up from the clipboard. Mina is staring straight ahead. “What? What’s up?”

“Look, over there.” She points towards the fountain. I follow her finger to see a young, very pale man of average height with a brown messenger bag, wearing a blue button up shirt and khaki shorts.

I drop my voice. “Who’s that?”

Mina frowns. “That’s Aaron Fünke, from my creative writing class. He’s such a creep…”

“He doesn’t seem to bad. A little absent minded, perhaps…’course, you know more than I do.”

“Literally all he writes about is ‘caring gentlemen’ who don’t get the girl because she goes for the ‘bad boys’. I swear, he’s that ’Everything You Want’ song personified.”

I look at him again. The image of a girl flying upside down across a beach pops into my head.

“Well, it’s not like I can keep him from coming over here, but if he does, I got your back!”

“I know you do,” she replies, smiling faintly at me, and relaxes a bit…but it doesn’t last long.

I seem to have tempted fate.

 

“Oh, hey, Mina! Fancy seeing you here!” he chirps, and out of the corner of my eye, Safiya winces. I suppose she’s all too familiar with that tone of voice.

Mina sighs. “Hello, Aaron. Having a good evening, I hope.”

“Oh, just great. Say…who’s this lovely lady with you?”

“My name is Marion Decampe, owner and founder of Decampe Décor. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” I say evenly, rising and extending a hand.

“Ooh! I don’t normally like girls who make the first move, but I’ll take it,” he purrs, taking my hand and kissing it. I pull my hand back instinctively.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is not a kissing booth. I’m here to meet potential employees for my furniture store.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Unfortunately, at this time, I can only take 3 more spots right now, and I’ve already gotten quite a few offers, so—”

“Might I be able to move to the top of the list with dinner on Saturday?”

“No, sir, that isn’t how I operate.”

“What, will your boyfriend have a problem with it?”

“That’s beside the—”

“Or, hold on…” He looks at Safiya. “Are you with _her_?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“That’s so hot if you are. I didn’t think you people were into that. If she wants to come with us, I’m down,” he says, leering at Safiya, who makes a noise of discomfort.

 

That’s it.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” I say, standing up and crossing my arms.

“Whoops, looks like I struck a nerve. Alright, let me at least take one of these—”

I place my hand on the stack of fliers. “I’d prefer you didn’t.” I will be _damned_ if I let this little boy anywhere _near_ Mina, if I can help it.

His tune changes as that point. “Fine. Your hair is nappy as fuck anyway. I don’t know how you have any customers when you’re shedding all over the merchandise.”

Mina’s eye twitches. She stands up.  


“Alright, Fünke, that’s quite enough!”

Aaron stops in his tracks. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I won’t let you get away with insulting my manager like this! She’s done nothing but be perfectly courteous to you, and this is how you repay her?”

 

“’Get away with’…? And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

“I’m someone who’s had to deal with your insufferable behavior all semester! The only positive  result I’ve taken from this interaction is that now I see where all of your disgusting stories stem from!”

 

By now, a bunch of people are looking our way.

 

“I know your type. Always blaming your lack of a sex life on women, always acting as though you’re somehow owed sex simply because you displayed basic human decency!”

 

“Hey, it’s not my fault! Women nowadays don’t appreciate a real man!”

She scoffs. “’Real man’?! Please. A real man would appreciate that an African-American woman is trying to run a successful business in a society that still so obviously favors men like yourself. A real man wouldn’t try to get ahead by using sorry attempts at romance, and true men sure as hell don’t speak about a working woman as though she were a shedding dog, _especially when they themselves leave a trail of dandruff everywhere they go!”_

This little boy, who previously had an answer for everything I said, is now speechless. He legitimately looks as though he’s about to cry, or pee his pants, or both, as he flees the area. Mina swallows once, and blinks, as if coming out of a trance.

“What on earth…?” she squeaks, seemingly confused.

I hug her tightly. “Girl~! You shut him down so quick! I had no idea you had it in you!” I’ve only ever seen anything close to that level of boldness from her when we’re back at the store.

Mina gives me a shy smile. “I just had to say something. I mean, you were just so calm and I couldn’t leave you alone like that. Though I’m afraid I may have cost you potential employees--?!”

Suddenly, there’s a rush of parkgoers who are asking me all sorts of questions about DD. We are bewildered but recover quickly. I answer questions as Mina passes the clipboard around, and Safiya has to basically fling posters at people to keep up…

September 3, 5:50

I’ve done it. After two weeks of nothing but resumés, interviews, second interviews, third interviews, and me trying to remember if I’m trying to hire people or run a basketball tournament…I’ve achieved a full team.

We collected at least 30 more email addresses after what Mina did. Most of them were other classmates of Mina’s who had been inspired by her speech, and, I suppose, wanted to show people like Adam what the future looks like. Those two weeks brought these three to me:

Jasmine Myers, a girl who lived on Mina’s floor during their sophomore year and a history major;

Devon Zales, a recent graduate from Penn State;

And Micah Herron, a recent divorcée who had just moved into the center for women and children in Livingston after fleeing an abusive household.

I could not be happier with the results, though I am sad that I couldn’t recruit more on that list. Hopefully I’ll be able to once I expand…

“Ms. Decampe! Could you come here for a moment? I need help with something,” I hear Mina call from the store front.

Huh? But there’s no one out there, last I checked. Oh well.

I step out of my office, and am immediately greeted by a small round cake with sparklers on it.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARION!” Everyone yells.

My eyes widen. “What??”

Signora Adolfo smiles. “We know your birthday is on Monday, and since we’re closed then, Minella decided we should give you your cake now!”

I let out the breath I was holding, and begin to tear up. “Aww, you guys! Thanks so much! You didn’t have to do this…”

Mina sets the cake down on the counter by the cash register. “Nonsense! You’ve been such a good manager to us, Miss  Decampe, and we knew we had to do something.”

“I mean, we know we’ve only been here about half a month, but you make it feel like we’ve been here for years! We jumped at the chance, really,” Jasmine adds.

“Go on, then! Make a wish before your cake catches fire!” Micah exclaims.

I give them another smile before brushing my hair back and blowing out the sparklers. The others clap as Jasmine begins cutting the cake.

 

“This is so great, thank you guys so much! This wouldn’t be possible without you girls.”

We eat cake and chat a bit until about 6:15, then I shutter the front door and we all leave out the back.

That’s right, Labor Day _is_ on my birthday, isn’t it? I wonder if Safiya would be down to do anything fun that day…

6:30 – Safiya

 

I’m so excited! My parents are taking me to my favorite restaurant to celebrate my birthday tomorrow, since they’re gonna be busy with the Labor Day Markets on Monday. I’m gonna gets all the kebabs I want and just stuff myself.

The others at work threw me a surprise party yesterday since we’ll be off on my actual birthday.

I get a text from Marion.

6:32

_Hey babe! What u doin?_

6:33

_Hey you! Not much. Thinking about tomorrow. My folks are taking me to dinner for my birthday._

6:35

_Aww! The girls at DD just threw me a surprise birthday party earlier today since we’re not coming in Monday._

6:36

_My coworkers did that for me Friday!_

_Wait…_

_When is your birthday?_

6:37

_It’s 9/5_

6:38

_OMG!!_

_Mine too!_

6:39

_OMG! Bday twins!!_

6:40

_We need to celebrate!_

I’m now frantically thinking of stuff we could do on Monday, but Marion responds.

6:41

_What if…we just went for ice cream to start off and see where the wind takes us?_

6:42

_I love it!_

September 5, 12:30

 

We’ve been running around the Labor Day market since it opened early this morning, making sure to visit my parents first, and looking at all the weird stuff it has to offer, and now we’re just sitting outside Frozen in Time, shoveling frozen dairy products into our mouths and making google eyes at each other. I’ve picked out chocolate vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. Marion picked out frozen strawberry yogurt with gummy bears, gummy worms, gummy octopi…

“Your mouth is gonna be killing you later.”

“Worth it~” Marion chirps, having chewed another bear to pieces. “So, what fun things are there to do on a holiday where literally everything is closed?”

“Well…there’s this roller rink I go to every Halloween. I think they’re having a little Labor Day thing up there. Wanna go?”

“That sounds just _great_ , but…I dunno how to skate. What if I die?”

I roll my eyes. “You won’t die, babe. Now’s a good place to start!” I grab her hand “Come on, they open in like 15 minutes. If we hurry, we can beat the line!”

I pull my bewildered girlfriend towards the car. She barely manages to take hold of her remaining yogurt…

12:50

Luckily, we’re among the first there, and we get ahold of some skates relatively quickly.

Marion scrunches up her face at the weighty skates on her feet. “Just how old _are_ these things??” She asks, noting their worn appearance.

“They look about the same as they did when I was little, so…”

“At least 20 years old. Ick.”

“Hey, they keep ‘em clean! Don’t worry. I don’t imagine they’d have been around for so long otherwise.”

Suddenly, the beginning riff of “Cake By the Ocean” comes on. I squeal happily.

“I _love_ this song! Come on!” I get up and start pulling Marion towards the rink, momentarily forgetting, in my excitement, that she’s new to this.

“Uhhhhhhhhhh you go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“Oh, right. Well, just come up to that wall over there when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay…”

I kiss her cheek, then roll out onto the rink, screaming the words as loud as I can along with Kevin. Despite the speed that I’m skating at, I can see Marion trying her damnedest to get up and walk towards the wall without letting her feet slide out from under her. She has to stomp like a dinosaur to even move forward, but eventually she’s leaning over the wall beside the entryway.

I slow down enough to stop beside her, placing a hand on her arm. “You okay? Looks like you’re having a time.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. I’m just…hanging out here, not dying. You make it look so easy, though…”

“That’s because I’ve been doing this every year since I was ten,” I say, extending a hand towards her. “Come on, we’ll go around together so you won’t get trampled everyone else.”

“I’m fine!” Marion takes one step into the rink proper, and almost immediately her left foot slides out from under her, making it look like she’s executing a death drop. She’s able to catch herself on her elbows and just avoid banging her head on the floor, but her elbows must smart. Even in the darkness, I can just see her mortified face.

I try my hardest not to laugh as I brace an arm under her back and grab her hand with my own, then gently pull her up and begin to pull her around the rink.

“Come one…one foot in front of the other. Good…”

“Okay…okay, I think I got— _shit!_ ” She grabs my arm just as she’s about to slip, but she continues shuffling along…

Soon we’re both going at a reasonable pace. Marion’s figured out how to stop on the wheels rather than having to roll around and wait for the momentum to run out.  

She was even able to make it through a Couples’ time song, holding my hand with much less of a vice grip than before…

 

After about three more hours, we take a break from skating, and I’m massaging Marion’s sore ankles.

“Ugh, now I’m hungry,” She groans, tipping her head back.

“We could go back to the Market.”

“Don’t they have food here?”

I make a face. “We really shouldn’t. This rink is great, but the pizza has always been pretty bad.”

“Well, bad pizza is great pizza, right?”

“No, you don’t get it. As far back as I can remember, they’ve basically been selling vaguely pizza shaped Playdoh.”

She thinks for a moment. “Alright. We can just go to my place then! I’ll make hamburgers!”

“Your place?”

 

4:30pm

“That’s right, you’ve never been to my apartment, have you?” Marion asks, leading me down the hall of her floor.

 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything!” I reply. She unlocks her door and lets me go in first.

 

Her apartment is absolutely gorgeous. All of the furniture that wasn’t already there is in varying shades of red. The lighting is soft, and there are huge potted plants in matching vases. Right as we walked in the door, I noticed a posh kitchenette and a very simply put together living room with one of those L-shaped couches. Her aesthetic runs deep.

“I love this apartment, Marion! Though I thought you’d be the one to splurge at least a bit…”

“Nah. I let my work speak for itself,” She replies, setting her purse on her couch and walking to the freezer to get some ground beef.

“Good point,” I reply, sitting at the bar separating the kitchenette from the living room.

I take my hamburger well-done, like the wuss I am; Marion eats hers almost fresh from the slaughter. I’m kinda jealous, but I’m also trying to avoid becoming a host.

Even so, mine is just as juicy as I imagine a medium-rare burger to be. I ask Marion what her secret is.

“Now, sweetie, you know magicians never reveal their secrets~” She says cheekily, winking at me. I shove her playfully in the shoulder.

Since there’s still quite some time left in our holiday, we decide to watch Arrested Development together from the beginning, cuddled under a blanket, eating a bowl of sour straws, laughing at Tobias’ insistence on crying in or near water.

I look down at the hand placed on Marion’s thigh, and rub my thumb across it. I have a very vague thought about something that becomes less and less vague with every passing second.

_You gonna make your move or what?_

_Whatever do you mean?_

_Don’t play coy. You want in._

_I’m not gonna ask her that._

_Well, she sure as hell isn’t. “Only if you want me to”, remember?_

I take a deep breath.

“Uh, Marion?’

“Yeah, babe?”

“Umm, I’ve been thinking a bit, and…” my heart starts fluttering. “I just wanted to know if I could…that is…would you…”

Oh, she’s waiting so patiently for me but I just can’t

_SPIT IT OUT!!_

“Would you liker yo fuck?” I blurt.

 

There. It’s out in the open. Now I wait…

 

_Real smooth. She’s gonna laugh you right out the--?!_

Suddenly, she places a hand on my thigh and kisses me full on the lips. It’s only slightly deeper than our usual kisses, like she’s still scared to test my limits. She breaks it and says, “I’m ready if you are.”

 

I look at her for a beat, then return the kiss, placing my hands on her hips. She seems surprised for a moment, but then giggles and wraps her arms around my neck, before pulling me on top of her. I make a startled noise into her mouth, and brace my hands against the couch.

“Weren’t expecting that, were you?” She purrs.

“Uh…no, not really. I’m not opposed to it though,” I chuckle nervously.

Amused, she hums and pulls my head back down. I begin planting soft kisses on her neck and inching my hands up under her shirt when she grabs it through the fabric.

“What’s up? Am I going too fast?”

“No, it’s just…wouldn’t you rather continue this without any distractions?” She asks, her eyes shifting towards the TV.

“Oh, right.”

“Come on.” Marion gently pushes me off her before taking my hand and leading me towards her room.

 

Once she closes the door, I press her against the wall with my hips and continue making out with her. This time, she lets me cop a feel from under her shirt. My hand travels up her stomach until I feel a different kind of fabric within my palm.

I decide to go slowly, squeezing the underside of Marion’s breast. She inhales and moans softly as I put on a little more pressure and begin to massage her in earnest.

She reaches under her sleeve to remove her bra strap, and her hand joins mine for a moment to pull the cup down. My heart skips a beat outright as I realize that I’m touching her real, actual boob.

_My God, I think she wants me._

I break the kiss for a moment, as I suddenly find it hard to breathe. I look at where my hand is, then look up at her. She nods. I gulp, and tentatively brush my thumb against her nipple, and she gasps in the cutest way. I start kissing her again, internally thrilling at how hard it’s becoming so quickly because of me, and graze my teeth against her jaw.

 

“My ear…”

I stop for a moment. “Hm?”

“Do my ear.”

I move my head past her face to nip at her ear, and she shudders. I continue to tease her ear while I pull the other cup of her bra down, and start to firmly pinch both nipples, rolling them in between my fingers, causing her to make stifled moans from the back of her throat, gripping the back of my shirt.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a while,” I whisper, making her shiver.

“Me too.”

I pull her to the bed and fall on it with her under me, then take of her shirt completely. Her breasts are quite small, but still look so soft. I grab one in each hand, then take a deep breath to calm my heart and begin to lick and suck at her nipple, and she mewls and whimpers, rubbing my back and making my shirt ride up. I whip my shirt off completely and bend down to continue playing with her.

“Ahh…mm, fuck,” she moans through gritted teeth. Suddenly she pushes me up a bit. “Hold up, let me…um…that is, did you want to…?” She trails off, tracing a circle around her head with her finger.

“I got it,” I reply, removing the star clip from my hijab and unwinding it from around my head, before throwing it…somewhere. I remove the comb holding my hair together as well, and let it fall free to one side of my head. Marion reaches up to run a hand through my hair.

 

“God, you’re beautiful…”

“So are you~” I reply, unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down to expose her…kitten pattern panties. I cough out a laugh and look up at her. “Really?”

“I’m always a slut for visual puns.”

I recover and kiss her stomach, making her giggle, and run a finger from her breastbone, down her stomach, to the waistband of her panties, pulling on it in an attempt to be teasing.

It works. Marion grabs my hand and tries to shove it down her panties. “Come _on_ , Safi, play with me~” she whines, pouting at me.

 

I can’t say no to that face.

 

I pull her drawers down all the way, and spread her legs slowly, bending down until I’m level with her pussy. I pull the lips open, and marvel at how hot it is already. I’m pretty sure I’m drooling right now.

 

“Safi…please, I’m so fucking wet. I need you inside me.”

I gulp, then lean in and take a long, tentative ice cream lick to test the waters. Marion gasps, and then moans as I lick her from top to bottom more confidently, firmly gripping the undersides of her thighs. Once I’m sure she’s all warmed up, I press my lips to the bottom of her folds and travel upwards, sucking all the way up to her clit, where I suck rapidly, making her arch her back.

 

“Ohh…oh shit…yes, baby, just like that, yesssss~” She drawls, tangling both hands in my hair and pulling me into her. Her thighs are shaking so much, and it’s so fucking sexy.

 

But there’s something I’ve always wanted to try.

I stop licking for a moment, and grab a pillow, fold it in half, and slide it under Marion’s butt. She folds herself in half, and I see this look on her face as if she hopes I’m going to do what I’m about to do. I hope I’m reading her right as I spread her cheeks open and lick her asshole.

“Oh, shit! Right there! Yes!” Marion cries, throwing her head back. Taking the hint, I continue, placing one hand on her upper thigh to rub her clit with my thumb, and place a finger inside her pussy. Just the feeling of how wet it is and the sound of her moans is causing my own cunt to ache.

“Oh, fuck…fuuuck…Safi, I’m so fucking close…”

 

She really is. Her juices are beginning to run down into the creases of her asshole. I rub her clit faster and with more pressure, and eventually…

“Safi…Safi, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking—sssSHIT!!”

Two more strokes of her clit, and her pussy contracts over and over around my finger, and she begins to convulse and sob. She holds my head firmly between her legs, and I don’t dare stop licking, trying to prolong her pleasure. She relaxes after a few seconds and slowly unfolds herself, bringing my face up to hers and kissing me deeply.

“Oh my fuck…that was amazing, Safi,” she breathes. “Did you know I liked having my ass played with?”

 

“Honestly, no,” I murmur between kisses, grazing my fingertips along her side to end at the nape of her neck. “I just wanted to see where it went.”

“Mmm. It went to a _very_ good place,” she murmurs. Suddenly, she firmly grabs my hips and rolls on top of me. “But now it’s my turn.”

 

Oh _boi_.

 

She begins to massage my breasts, thumbing my nipples through the fabric. I jump at the sensation, my breathing ragged. She inches my bra straps down my arms and pulls down the cups, allowing my breasts to spill out and come to rest flush against my chest.

 

“God, your tits are just perfect, baby…they’re so soft~”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

She pinches my nipples, copying what I did to her, and kisses and licks at my neck, making me bite my lip. She grazes her teeth against it, and gives me a hickey, making me giggle.

 

My giggle turns into a gasp as I realize her bare thigh is right against my crotch. I try to be subtle about rubbing myself up against her, but she notices almost right away, and presses her thigh harder against me, and begins to rub mine.

“You want me, baby?”

I squeak. “Um…a little bit…”

She chuckles and kisses me on the check. “Just wait a lil’ bit longer, okay?”

“Oh, please, take all the time you need!”

 

She smiles and bites her lips. “You keep bein’ so cute, I won’t have to~” She plants kisses on my neck, on my collarbone, down my sternum, down my stomach, and takes the waistband of my jeans between her teeth, growling playfully at me.

I giggle. “You’re a dork.”

She laughs devilishly, then unbuttons my jeans, pulls them off me and spreads my legs. She kisses my right thigh and rubs her cheek against it. She hums against my skin.

“Fuck…all of you is so full and soft. I can’t get enough of it.”

“Marion~” I whine. “Please…”

“Alright, baby girl. Lemme get in here…” She whispers, pulling my panties down with her teeth, spreading my lips open and

_Oh God she’s going for it._

I yelp with surprise, but she’s so gentle I can’t help but moan. She licks my pussy top to bottom and back, making quick flicking motions every so often.

“Ooh, you’re so wet, already…you _have_ been waiting for this, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” I reply feverishly, my hands gripping the headboard.

“It’s so hot, too…mmm…” She alternates between sucking on my lips and my clit. “And you taste so good. I could just stay here forever…” She kisses my thigh, and licks that spot, before lightly biting at it…

 

“Nngh…ah, Marion…fuck…!” I manage, as she rubs my clit in circles and slowly slips her tongue inside me. My back arches, and I reach down to lose one hand in her hair, loosely grabbing a fistful. I realize what I’m doing and start to retract my hand, but she grabs it and replaces it in her hair.

“Don’t be afraid to get a little rough, babygirl…if you want more, you can just tell me~” she begins focusing on my clit, causing me to take short shallow gasps.

“Oh…ooh, fuck yeah…” I breathe, rolling my hips into her face.

She laughs, causing my clit to vibrate a little, and removes her face. She comes up and kisses me, rubbing between my folds with her middle finger, slipping it inside me slowly, making me moan into her mouth.

“You okay, baby? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

I clench around her finger, kissing her on the lips. “Mm-mm. Just go slow at first, okay?”

“Alright.” She inches her finger further in, all the way to the base, the slides it back out, establishing a rhythm as I get even wetter. I spread my legs so she can fuck me more comfortably, and as she feels less and less friction inside me, she picks up the pace, shifting so she’s directly in front of me, hiking my leg over her shoulder. She stares at me lovingly and takes a breath.

“I can’t get over how beautiful you are,” she breathes, leaning in to kiss me, slipping her tongue into my mouth, letting me taste myself on her lips.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just relax,” she whispers. “You gettin’ close, baby?”

“Yes…ohhh…so close…”

She kisses my neck, and sits back up to inch her ring finger inside me, curling her fingers against my G-spot, and rubbing the length of her thumb against my clit.

“Fuck, your pussy is dripping all over me…”

I’m maintaining a vice grip on the headboard above me by now, and I’m so close, I’m so fucking close—

“Ooh…oh fuck, Marion…!”

“Yesss, that’s it, baby, go ahead and cum for me. Cum all over my hand…”

She kisses me forcefully, swallowing my rising moans, until I’m squeezing around her fingers, and practically sobbing into her mouth. Marion takes this all in stride and she’s pushing her fingers so deep inside me and I can’t stop, I can’t stop cumming around her, I don’t wanna stop, I just want this to last forever…

Soon, I’m only left with aftershocks, and after she’s sure that I’m done, Marion slowly pulls out of me, one finger at a time. She licks her middle finger clean and hangs her ring finger over me so I can taste myself on her…

I take her finger into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it lazily, and she giggles, before taking it out and kissing my cheek.

She grabs the other pillow and places it at the head of her bed so she can lie next to me, and wrap an arm around my shoulder. I drape mine across her stomach, taking her free hand in mine, and kiss her weakly on the lips.

“You were fantastic, Safi. Did I do a good job?” She whispers in my ear.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumble, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck.

I just barely hear her saying something about snacks before I pass out completely…


	15. Chapter 15

September 6, 12:15 am

I’m barreling down Rainbow Road. The iridescent track before me is bright, almost dizzying, but I shake my head and focus on avoiding slipping on one of the bananas Luigi tried to trip me up with earlier and paying Lakitu’s 3-coin rescue fee.

Behind me, I can see Her Highness gaining on me, her golden crown reflecting the road beneath us. I’ve found the perfect opportunity to use that Red Shell I picked up a bit ago…

But suddenly, someone (I’m sure it was Wario, that garlic junkie) launches a Blue Shell against me. I drift to the left, to the right, trying to lose it, but all it does is circle around my head and

 

I wake up in near complete darkness. I am slowly cognizant of the blanket draped over me body, and the arm wrapd around my shoulder. I look up at the huge flower painting on the wall across from me, very softly illuminated by overhead lights, and at the sleeping face of the person holding me.

My Marion…I kiss her lightly on the cheek. Her mouth twitches, but she’s otherwise still. I snuggle into her and try to go back to sleep, but suddenly my stomach begins to growl.

 _No, not now. It’s sleep time,_ I think, trying to will my stomach into silence.

It responds by growling louder.

I give up.

But I can’t exactly raid my girlfriend’s fridge; I just got here. I decide to get myself a glass of water and hope that’s enough.

I stumble out of her bedroom and into the living room, noting that it’s now at least midnight, and try to quietly search for a glass, but unfortunately it’s just out of my reach in the cupboard.

I’m startled by an arm reaching up to grab the glass for me and put it in my hand. Marion kisses me on the lips and smiles.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she whispers, placing a hand on the small of my back. Looking at her, she still seems tired, but happy to see me. “You passed out right after you came. You good?”

“Mm-hmm. ‘M hungry,” I reply, filling the glass with water.

“You can have some of my strawberries, if you want,” she says, reaching into her fridge to retrieve a carton. “I almost always have a box of these handy.”

“You’re an angel.” I take a sip of water and sneak a peek at Marion’s butt, but she turns around so quickly, I barely have time to avert my gaze.

“What are you lookin’ at?” Marion says mock-suspiciously, putting the fruit in a bowl.

“Nothing~” I reply innocently, then pinch her butt.

She yelps, but giggles and kisses me on the cheek again and sets the bowl on the counter.

“You got a straw?” I ask, taking a seat at the bar.

“Why, you plannin’ on sucking out the juice first?” Marion snarks, handing me a green one.

“No, silly. I’m not about to eat the leaves.” I shove the straw through the bottom of the strawberry and forcing the foliage upward.

Marion shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She pops an entire strawberry into her mouth, leaves and all.

I repeat my ritual, but this time I keep the straw inside and show it to Marion. “Look! It’s a straw-berry!”

Marion snickers. “Oh, my God, that’s so bad! You’re gonna make me choke!” she exclaims, trying to keep the strawberry in her mouth. I grin mischievously.

I rest my head in my hand and regard my impaled strawberry pensively.

“Something on your mind?” Marion asks, coming around to sit next to me, grazing her fingertips up and down my back.

“Mmm…I was think about maybe…”

Marion looks patiently at me as I try to choose my words.

“…Maybe trying bondage stuff with you next time? I mean, I know we just had sex…” my eyes drift to the spot between her legs. “…But I feel like I can really trust you. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to experiment, right?”

Marion bites her lip, then takes my hand and looks me in the eyes. “If that’s what you wanna do, Safi, I’d be more than happy to walk you through it. But I wouldn’t feel right spanking you right off the bat,” she says, making me giggle. “We gotta start small. Handcuffs, feather ticklers, that kinda thing. We can work on rougher stuff if you want later.”

I know exactly where this is coming from. “That sounds just fine,” I reply, smiling at her.

She takes a breath, smiling back. “Okay. But before we do anything else, we need to lock down a safe word.” She stands up and begins pacing. “Something simple, but unique, something that we wouldn’t normally say during a scene.”

“What about…purple?”

“’Purple’?

“Yeah, ‘cause you like red, and I like blue. Purple!”

“Hm. I like it. Purple it is!” She walks towards me and places her hands on my waist. “In the meantime, you think you could give me a couple days to figure out what I wanna show you?”

“Okay!” I hop off the stool and wrap my arms around her neck, giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Now can we go back to bed? I’m starting to feel sleepy again.”

“Of course, honey.” She grabs my hand again and leads me back to her room, where she drapes the blankets over us and embraces me.

The fact that she’s taking such good care of me before I even see a pair of handcuffs gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, and I’m out almost immediately…

September 12, 7:30

It’s finally here: Eid al-Adah, the Feast of Sacrifice; the end of Ramadan. The fasting part ended about a month ago, but the new moon finally decided to grace us with its presence. Myself, my mom and my dad are dressed in our best, and we’re going to our masjid to pray, commune with our friends and neighbors and give in the name of zakath.

Mama brought two-thirds of the goat meat she carved for this day, and Papa brought the money we’d been saving to donate to the poor, which leaves me with the box of clothes we had all put together for the Eid drive.

I can barely see over it; we’ve all been really busy so we kind of had to rush.

This was not smart to do in heels.

Thankfully, assistant Imam Akin relieves me of the box and puts it next to the mountain of boxes near the kitchen, saving me from toppling over.

“Thanks for this, Safiya. Eid Mubarak!”

I smile tiredly at him and try to subtly fan myself under my top. “Eid Mubarak. Great turnout!” I say, looking at the crowd of people.

Akin nods. “God has blessed us. I even get to perform the Adhan this year!”

“Ooh! You nervous?”

“Nope!” He replies, placing his hands on his hips and sticking out his chest. “Well, maybe a little bit. I’ve been practicing non-stop.”

“I know you have. You’ll be okay,” I assure him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He sighs. “Yeah. I’m gonna go get ready now. See ya!”

“Later!”

After a bit of socializing, sure enough, I hear Akin perform the call to prayer from the prayer room, and we all file in together, my parents sitting next to me as always.

Prostrating myself once, I thank Allah for the love of my parents.

Twice, I thank him for giving me the courage to stand up to Megan when it counted.

Prostrating my self one last time, I thank him for sending Marion and ask him to keep her, Decampe Décor, and all of her employees safe.

I say peace to my father on my right, as well as to Aïda on my left, then we all leave towards the dining room.

 

(“Ms. Daoud’s cooking is simply the best! I must learn her secret!”) Mama cries, digging into her third helping of biryani.

(“I know, my dear Shideh, but please, slow down! You begin to move in slow motion when you feast like this!”)

(“Nonsense, Iqbal! Allah has energized me! I won’t…”) She yawns. (“…I won’t falter like last year…!)

My hand flies to my mouth to suppress a giggle. Mama has always been the picture of self-control during Ramadan, but at al-Fitr and al-Adah, the sky is the limit.

But she catches me, of course. (“This is the time for this, Safiya! Ramadan is over! Enjoy yourself!”)

(“Yes, Mama,”) I reply, taking another spoonful of kabsa.

(“I’m so glad you still come to Eid services every year, Safi. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”)

(“Well, I don’t see you guys as often, anymore. I wanna make the best of it—whoa!?”) Papa grabs my face and kisses it from across the table.

 

Just as predicted, Mama is asleep as soon as she’s in the passenger’s seat of my parents’ car, with their share of meat wrapped protectively in her arms. I’ve taken an armful for myself as well.

(“I imagine you had a lot to be thankful for.”) Papa says, taking my free hand.

(“I did. I’ll have a lot more of those in the future, I think.”)

(“Me too. I need to get your mother home. Eid Mubarak, my daughter!”)

(“Eid Mubarak, Papa!”) I reply, giving him a hug.

I lean in the car and whisper, “Eid Mubarak, Mama,” before kissing her cheek and closing the car door.

Walking to my own car, I make another quick duaa for my parents, praying that if anything should try to come between us it will only bring us closer together…

7:30 – Marion

I’ve been with my mother since I closed up shop for the night. She called me at around noon to ask if I could come see her and my grandfather at the hospital; he had a heart attack in his kitchen a few days ago and they’ve been keeping an eye on him.

 

 

 

He’s hooked up to all these tubes and wires, but he still has the biggest smile on his face. That’s just like him.

“You doin’ all this work but you still make time for your Papaw. I’m so proud.”

“Aw, quit it!”

“Do you know if Robbie’s comin’, Layla?”

“I don’t, Daddy. He hasn’t called me back or left messages or anything.”

Papaw’s smile falters. “Oh. He must be busy then…”

I almost wanna cry looking at him…

Later, in the hospital cafeteria, my mother is picking at the cheese on her waxy pizza.

“Okay…what’s up?”

She looks up from the nearly cheese-bare slice. “Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. You wouldn’t be wasting a perfectly edible pizza otherwise.”

“I don’t follow.”

I look at her over my glasses.

“Oh, alright. It’s your uncle.”

I sit back. “Of course it is.”

“I just… can’t help but feel I’m responsible for the way he is now. Your grandparents tried so hard not to play favorites, tried so hard to raise us right, but they ended up giving me more attention. I just drank it in and didn’t even realize what it was doing to Robbie until he’d turned into this…this…” my mother waves her hands in front of her, trying to figure out what to call it. I know exactly what this is.

“Hotep nigga?”

My mother startles. “Marion!”

“What? That’s what this is! Instead of admitting that he has jealousy issues, he’s trying to act like it’s your fault for doing better than him, that the success of Black women as a whole is somehow detrimental to the community.”

She looks down at her plate. I put a hand on her arm.

“I know you love Uncle Robbie, Mama, but you’re not responsible for him. You never were. Grandma and Papaw did their best. He just decided he was gonna be a hotep nigga. That’s on him.”

She smiles wanely. “I guess so. I best be glad you didn’t turn out like him, huh?”

I laugh. “I heard that.”

I drive home from the hospital around 9:30 and go straight to my bed, forgetting that I laid out all the stuff that I wanted to show Safiya, and collide face first with a pair of handcuffs. The pain reminds me of what I told Safiya a week ago, and I decide to call her.

“Hey, Safiya? It’s me. Can you come over tomorrow? I’ve figured out what I wanna try first…"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

September 13, 6:30pm: Safiya

Sitting in the lobby of Marion’s building with a bag containing fresh clothes for tomorrow morning, I can’t help but wonder just what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

I just picture myself being bodily wrapped in rope, hanging upside down from a rope web, and Marion scaling towards me for a snack…

_What kind of morbid shit is that?_

_I’ve never done this before! What if she eats me??_

_Bit too late for that…_

_Shut up!_

I’m pulled out of my frantic thoughts when Marion appears out of nowhere, kissing me on the cheek.

“Hey, sweetie! You ready for your first lesson?” She chirps, shimmying.

I nod wordlessly. “You nervous?”

“What??” I scoff several times. “No!”

She chuckles. “It’ll be okay,” she assures me, taking my hand and pulling me up. “Just say the word and I will stop in my tracks. Okay?”

I take a deep breath. “Okay.”

 

Walking through the door to her apartment, the first thing I notice is that the entire kitchen and living room smell like lavender. The speaker on the kitchen counter is playing downbeat house music, and there’s a bottle of Blueberry Jones next to it,

“I feel good already,” I say softly, as Marion grabs the bottle and leads me to the couch.

“That was my plan. I wanted to get off on the right foot, pun intended,” she replies, making me laugh.

I sit on the couch and am immediately presented with an assortment of handcuffs, ropes, soft-looking edges that look like giant door stoppers, dildoes and what appear to be spiny wheels attached to handles, splayed out on the living room floor.

“Go ahead and play around. Ask anything you like.”

The wheel piques my interest right away, and I pick it up and roll it across the palm of my hand. Other than a unique fuzzy feeling, I don’t really feel anything.

“Um, Marion…?” I begin, showing her the contraption. Her eyes light up.

“Ooh! That’s one of my favorite toys. May I?”

I give her the spoke. She rolls up my sleeve, gently presses the spines against my forearm and rolls it upward, towards my elbow.

“Personally, I think it’s better if you’re blindfolded, but I just like to roll it up and down my arms sometimes. Feel okay?”

“Mm-hmm. It does sting a little, but I guess that’s the point.” We both chuckle.

She looks at my arm askance. “You wanna get started and try it out?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” She takes my hand and pulls me in for a kiss. “Go into my room and strip down to your undies. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I nod, and head towards the bedroom, already removing the clip from my hijab…

6:45 : Marion

As soon as she closes the door, I fling off my jacket, shirt, jeans and boots, leaving me only in a black bra and boyshorts, and grab a red bag from a small cabinet beside my TV, filling it with my favorite feather tickler and riding crop, a gold bullet, a rabbit vibrator, a pair of soft handcuffs, the spoke she was playing with earlier, and the blue ramp.

Okay. This’ll be…fine.

I take a deep breath and enter my bedroom, where Safiya is sitting cross-legged on the edge of my bed, in a similar state of undress, her clothes folded neatly in a chair in the corner, her hijab resting on the top in a near-perfect rectangle.

She looks delicious already.

I walk towards her, bend down and kiss her full on the lips.

“You ready?”

She nods. I kiss her again, pushing slowly forward until I’m directly on top of her on the bed. Bringing her up towards the headboard, I retrieve the cuffs from the bag and place her arms above her head, then shackle her wrists to the bar in the middle. I make to get the spoke, but I have to make sure of something first:

“What’s the safeword?”

“Purple,” She replies almost immediately.

“Good girl.” I pull the spoke from the bag and place the wheel at the base of Safiya’s stomach, slowly rolling upwards, making her jump and gasp.

I notice her eyes are closed. “Are you enjoying it this much already?”

“Well, you did say it was better if you can’t see.”

I snort. “Cutie.” I roll the wheel towards her thigh, taking hold of the underside of her leg and giving it a kiss to keep her calm. Placing a hand onto her other thigh, I flick my thumb against her clit through her panties, making her moan softly.

She’s so warm and wet already…I can’t take it. I take hold of her panties and slowly pull them down her legs, marveling at the line of fluid between her panties and her pussy.

I lay beside her, kissing and sucking her neck as I tease her pussy, my middle finger practically gliding between her folds, taking in her mewls and moans as she rocks her hips into my hand.

“Oh…oh, Marion, _please_ fuck me…!” She whines.

_I want to, oh God, I want to so badly, baby, but…but I wanna show you so much more._

I gulp and try to act as though I wasn’t _this_ close to plunging my fingers inside of her. “Not yet, baby. First…”

I get the bullet and hold it flush against her clit, my thumb resting on the ON switch.

“…I wanna bring you to the edge.”

I press the button and the bullet begins to gently vibrate as I massage Safi’s clit with it. She gasps and moans, bucking her hips once more. I can barely keep myself from drooling, looking at her writhe and roll against my hand. It’s just so delicious…

Soon she begins to rock her hips faster, in that “I’m gonna cum” way that I’ve become so familiar with. I want to give her release, but…

I quickly pull the bullet away from her clit and turn it off.

“Marion…!” she whines, her hips rising from the bed as if it’ll be enough to get to the bullet. It’s the tiniest bit heartbreaking, but I’m not done yet.

To give the built up pleasure time to fade, I climb on top of her and kiss her all over, grazing my nails against her supple skin, cupping her breasts, kissing and licking her thighs, indulging myself in her before I push her over, all the while not even touching her pussy.

I take the feather tickler/riding crop as well as the rabbit vibrator and the ramp. I place the ramp under Safiya’s butt so her legs are in the air, and begin lightly dusting her body with the tickler.

She begins to titter, which turns into a laugh, as she twists around trying to get away from the feathers. “Ma-Marion, what are you do-hoo-hooing?? Quit it! Ha ha ha!” She laughs hysterically and adorably, and it’s making me laugh, too.

“Hee hee…!’m…I’m distracting you from _this!_ ” I laugh, , trapping Safiya’s clit between the ears of the vibrator.

“Ha haohhhh…” Her laughs become moans as she realizes what just happened.

“Now…I’ll show you one of my favorite things about this kind of sex.”

I flip the crop over to the whipping side, pressing it against Safiya’s butt.

 _Pap! Pap!_ Her butt cheeks ripple with my gentle alternating slaps. I put a little more strength into it every few seconds, making sure to give her time to call me off, if she wants.

But even though the ripples become waves, she doesn’t stop me. In fact, she hisses “Harder,” humping her ass at me. I see her juices overflowing from her pussy, dripping between her reddening cheeks, into the creases of her asshole, and it’s causing my own pussy to throb.

I continue to swat her ass, and her writhing and moaning is so much…I feel like I might cum just my looking at her. I forego the crop entirely, and sit on my knees on the bed. With my right hand I slap her ass, leaving red imprints, every so often taking a cheek into my hand and jiggling it around. With my other hand I rub frantically at my clit, trying to get rid of this ache.

“Ohh, fuck, fuck, Marion…Marion it hurts but it feels so goo-oo-ood~ I can’t—oh…” She moans, her hips rocking again.

“I know, baby, I know…” I breath through clenched teeth, trying to mask the fact that I’m so fucking hot right now…

She’s getting close again. I decide to finish the job, slowly pushing two fingers inside her and thrusting upwards, towards her sweet spot, until her pussy contracts around me over and over, the warm sensation around my fingers pushing me over as well.

“Safi—fuck!!”

I collapse onto the bed beside her, my pussy squeezing around my own fingers, trying desperately to focus on Safiya, by my brain is all over the place and my rhythm is off and I just can’t—

Just then my orgasm lets up just enough to let me regain control, and I pull my fingers away from my cunt and into Safiya’s mouth as I slow my thrusts into her honeypot. She licks them hungrily, still twitching and squeezing around my fingers.

I exhale, and slide my fingers out of my girlfriend, eliciting a soft gasp from her, and bend down to kiss her lips, tasting myself on her.

“You okay?” I whisper finally, brushing the hair from her sweaty forehead, touching it to mine. She exhales shakily, but nods. I kiss her forehead and undo the shackles, freeing her from my headboard.

I settle beside her and she immediately wraps her arms around me. “Ohhh…that was incredible, Marion. I never though getting spanked would be so much fun…can you do it again?”

I hold her close to me. “I can do that. I can show you much more than that, too. But first…” I get up to go to my bathroom and return with a bottle of Aloe and a glass of water. “Lie on your stomach for me, babe.”

She does so, fully revealing her reddened ass cheeks. “I need to show you one of the most important parts of this thing of ours: aftercare.”

“That’s a word I haven’t heard in a while,” Safiya quips. I chuckle as I place the glass of water on the nightstand on her side of the bed before sitting lightly on the backs of her legs, squirting a generous amount of lotion into my hands, and gently place them on either cheek, running in circles.

“Ah! Cold!” she squeaks, but after a few seconds, she relaxes, and rests her head on her pillow. “Mmm…this is part of it?”

“Mm-hmm. BDSM can be real hard on you physically, obviously, but it can fuck with your brain a little bit too. I want to make sure you know that you’re safe, and that I can get you whatever you need.”

“Aww. I could get used to this,” she whispers, taking a swig of water.

“And you should. Now: is there anything you really liked or didn’t like about what just happened?”

“Hmm…I did like the spanking and that little wheel thingy…”

“The spoke?”

“Yeah. I dunno how to explain it, but it leveled out the pleasure and gave me more of it at once. The tickling was…eh…”

“Not about it?”

“Not really. One time, I was with a guy, and he was going down on me and grazed his nails along the spot one my thigh where I’m the most ticklish, and right when I came I had a muscle cramp. Pretty much ruined mt orgasm.

I hum sympathetically.

“Heavy petting is more my scene.”

I bite my lip. “Oh, I’ll give you _plenty_ of heavy petting, babygirl,” I purr, kissing her back.

She giggles, but before either of us can say anything else, her phone rings on the nightstand.

“Hello?”

I don’t understand the rest of her conversation, but it sounded like a call from a family member. After a short conversation about…something…they exchange what I can only assume are words of endearment, and end the call.

“What’s up?” She puts her phone back on the nightstand.

“Oh, nothing. My mom and dad had meat from Eid that they can’t eat and…wait…what time is it?”

She looks at her phone to check the time. 8:30.

“Hm. I feel like I’m supposed to be doing something. Oh well.”

She takes another drink and rests her head back on the pillow.

We spend the rest of the night like this, massaging and cooing at each other, generally enjoying each other’s presence.

I hope whatever she forgot wasn’t important…


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

September 14, 7:55

_“Bismillahi wa’ala baraka tillah!”_

Aïda and I give thanks together as we tuck in to the leftover meat my parents gave me. I prefer to eat it off the bone while she cuts it in slices.

Ramadan and Eid have come and gone, but it still feels so good to be able to enjoy myself like this.

Soon, we’re sporadically picking at the meat on our plates. We probably won’t be able to get leftovers like this for another year, so we push through it.

“I was happy to see you at Eid salat, Safi.”

I look up from the last hunk of meat currently lodged in my mouth. “Ohgeh?”

She snickers. “Yeah. I guess you haven’t fallen off the wagon after all.”

I smirk. “Whatever.”

“Although…Auntie told me you weren’t home like usual. What was that about?”

“Oh.” _Uh oh_. “Yeah, I was…” _getting folded in half._ “Out.”

“Hm. Well, as long as you’re keeping up with your prayers.” I stop chewing.

Wait.

_Wait._

**_Shit._ **

“Safi? You _have_ been keeping up with your prayers, right?”

“Actually… I may have forgotten to do Isha yesterday,” I reply sheepishly, wincing.

Aïda sighs. “I was worried this might happen.”

“Aïda, it was _one_ prayer.”

“Sure, that’s how it starts. Then you’ll be missing midday and evening prayers, then you’ll be missing masjid, and then forgetting to do alms and stuffing yourself during Ramadan—”

“Will you come off it?!” I stand up and hug myself.

“I’m just saying, right after Eid, there’s no reason for you to neglect the Pillars! Unless…” Aïda thinks for a moment. “It’s that girl, isn’t it? The furniture girl!”

I flinch.

“Aha! So I’m right!”

“No! I just said I was out…”

“You almost _never_ leave the house during the week! Something’s up!”

“Even if there were, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Doesn’t matter. We need to nip this in the bud right now. I’m _not_ gonna let you relapse,” she says seriously, standing from her seat.

“’Relapse’, huh? Nice,” I deadpan.

She points at me. “I’m going to pray on this at home, but we’re not done talking about this. Not by a longshot.”

“Sure, whatever,” I mutter, rolling my eyes, suddenly exhausted by this point.

“I’m serious, cuz! I don’t want you missing out on Jannah!”

Now it’s my turn to sigh. “I know you don’t, Aïda. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

Aïda looks at me suspiciously one last time, then gathers her purse and heads towards the door.

“I’ll figure something out. We’re gonna cinch this together, okay?”

“Sure,” I reply, smiling wanly.

We hug, and she starts walking down the hallway. I close the door behind her and flop onto my futon.

I change my mind. I enjoyed myself too much too soon, and now Aïda is on my ass.

I need to get away from all this spirituality…

 

September 16, 7:30

My friends have invited me and Marion to al-Jannah tonight. We’ve been going to this restaurant since we were kids, and tonight they’re having a 30th anniversary special. They’ve really expanded since I was little…

As I lead Marion through the maze of tables and chairs, I look back and admire the sheer joy on her face as she gazes at all the traditional art.

“This is so amazing, Safi. I just love how aggressively Iranian they are. They do not play,” Marion gushes, a certain blue rug catching her eye. “Ooh!”

“Yeah, they’ve opened up their menus a lot, but they haven’t forgotten their roots.” Fatima waves at us from the sea of pillows amongst which she and the guys have situated themselves. “ _Asalamu alaikum!”_

“ _Wa-alaykum salam!_ ” She looks up at my girlfriend.

“Oh, hey! Um…Marion, right? Glad you could come!” Fatima greets Marion, extending a hand to her.

I remove her shoes, then pick a spot next to Omar, pulling Marion with me as she returns the handshake. “Thanks for having me! You picked a good spot. ‘S cozy!”

Omar chuckles. “We’re gonna want a place to lie down after dinner, because…”

He flips to the very last page of the menu and shows it to Marion.

“We’re getting this!”

“This” is a huge platter of three of their most popular kebabs. It costs 80 dollars and comes with 2 refillable pitchers of pomegranate juice. Marion has this dazed look on her face not unlike what I’ve seen her make in bed.

“Sweetie, you okay?” I ask, rubbing her back.

She stops drooling and shakes her head. “Oh, I’m fantastic. I want _in,_ ” she replies, leaning over the table.

“Heh, I like you, furniture girl!” Omar says cheekily, closing the menu. “But you gotta pitch in first. 16 dollars.”

“Done.”

“Alright, but be careful. I’ve been fasting since breakfast just for this!”

Marion puts on a determined face and scoffs. “Like it matters. I’m a bottomless pit.”

Omar smirks. “We’ll see about that.”

After 45 minutes, as promised, the platter comes out, with two servers having to carry it to us, and an additional server to bring the pitchers.

They’ve brought out 45 skewers arranged in a circle, handles faced towards us: 15 of the kebab loghmeh, 15 of the kebab joujeh, and 15 of my favorite, the kebab koobideh.

 

The four of us say a quick but very emphatic bismillah, then Omar points his finger at my girlfriend. “You’re going down, furniture girl!”

“Try me,” she replies in a low voice, reaching for a koobideh without realizing it.

“Hey! Dibs!” I shout. Marion stops in her tracks and she grabs a joujeh instead, eating a piece of chicken and an onion slice in one go.

I smile and take the koobideh she was about to eat, trying not to choke with laughter at the way omar and Marion are finishing their first skewers, staring intently at one another.

“I think you’ve awakened something in him, Marion!” Fatima exclaims.

“That’s just fine. I need a challenge!” My girlfriend replies, taking a loghmeh this time, eating the vegetables first.

“Ooh, I think she’s toying with you this time, Omar.”

This goes on for another hour, the pomegranate juice depleting and refilling, myself, Fatima and Sadegh cheering Omar and Marion on in between spoonfuls of rice, in what may as well be called dinner theatre at this point, it’s so entertaining.

Even as we begin eating more slowly, they don’t let up. Maybe she _is_ a bottomless pit…

**20 minutes later…**

She is not.

I will never eat again.

I can barely keep my eyes open. After about 6 kebabs, I’m a puddle staring at the ceiling rugs, contemplating my life choices.

I’m not sure who won. Omar’s passed out on the table, another skewer in hand, while Marion is asleep in my lap. I absent mindedly run my hands through her hair, not taking my eyes off the ceiling.

I need some air. I need to get away from all this food. Gently pulling myself from beneath Marion’s head, I get up from my place among the pillows, and walk towards the fairly new patio facing a small river separating the restaurant from downtown Madison.

My thoughts invariably drift to Aïda. I imagine she’s going to be especially vigilant after what happened last year at school…

I just have to stay ahead of her for a bit.

“You okay, babe?”

I turn my head to see Marion, fresh from her food coma, yawning and brushing the hair from her face. She looks so cute, even now…

I smile. “Yeah. I’m just thinking.”

“What about?” She asks, pressing herself against my back, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and kissing my cheek.

“Mmm…” I grasp her forearm. “You know how my mom called me on Tuesday? And I said I felt like something was way off?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I forgot to do my sundown prayers then, and my cousin Aïda called me out on it, and now I’m scared she’s gonna go overboard.”

“Gross,” Marion mumbles into my hijab. “Has she done this before?”

“Well, she always has been really serious about the Ummah, but…” I hesitate. Now is not the time. “I’ll explain later.”

“Of course, hon,” she replies, squeezing me tight. “I’m right here.”

I nuzzle my face into her hair. “I know.”

“Hey, lovebirds~!” I hear Omar call behind us, having woken up as well. He leans over the fence as well, to the left of us. “Marion, you are an absolute beast.”

I feel her lips stretch into a smile. “You too, man.”

“I’ve never seen anyone eat two kebabs at once. Do you even know who won?”

Marion shrugs. “No idea. Rematch?” She holds out her left arm.

“Hell yeah, rematch!” Omar replies, clasping her outstretched hand with his own.

“No! No rematches, not tonight! I don’t want you guys eating yourselves sick,” I scold them playfully.

“Oh, alright,” Omar says, sulking.

We all go home around midnight that night, and I pass out almost immediately upon falling into my bed.

Before I fall asleep, I ask Allah to let Aïda have mercy on me. I don’t need another boot camp…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kebab koobideh: Beef and chopped onions with parsley  
> Loghmeh: Minced grilled lamb meatballs, parsley, onions and sumac  
> Joujeh: Grilled chicken


	18. Chapter 18

September 17

With Ramadan comes Eid, and with Eid comes the post-Eid grocery rush.

Yup, the neighborhood has finally exhausted their supply of meat from al-Adha and their fridges are empty, meaning Halafarsi has their work cut out for them.

Even with Fatima and Sadegh helping with stocking and restocking, it’s a lot for my dear old mom and dad, so I’m helping out too.

Even though they’ve slowed down a bit since they opened the store, my parents still love this time of year; their retirement fund gets a huge boost.

And in between greeting old customers and guiding new ones, I use the precious minutes I have before the next wave putting the finishing touches on something I’ve been making for my parents…

 

At 8:30, we all pray Isha together and get ready to close up shop.

“Hey, Mama, Papa? After we’re done here, I have something to show you,” I say in a low voice.

“Of course, Safi,” my mother says, smiling.

We see the others off, then they follow me into the back office.

“I’ve been working on this for a couple weeks, now, and I think you’ll like it.”

I open the file on my laptop and show them the print I made of the store at midday. I’ve included a few of the regulars milling about, and the wall pieces they were selling to mark the Qibla at the time.

My father puts a hand on my shoulder. “This is wonderful, Safi! You even got that rug hanging on the wall that your mother hates!”

“It’s a dog on a unicycle! It makes no sense!”

“It’s unique! It’s a family heirloom!”

Mama rolls her eyes but squeezes me tight. “It’s a lovely picture, Safiya. Can we put it up behind the counter?”

“Sure! I just need to get to a copy place or something—”

My phone vibrates.

“Sorry, one sec. Hello?”

It’s Aïda…

“Safiya, I need you to come to house. I’ve figured something out.”

“Ugh, Aïda, can’t this wait…?”

“Now, Safi. It’s important.”

It probably isn’t, but if I ignore her, she won’t leave me alone.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mama asks, putting a hand on my back.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I reply. “I’m gonna go hang out with Aïda for a bit. I’ll see you guys later, okay?” I hug them both.

“Alright, my dear. Thank you for your help today. God bless you!” my dad calls.

“You too!”

9:00

Alhamdulillah, Aïda only lives a floor below me. That doesn’t make the trip any easier on me.

“Can’t this wait, cuz? My legs are about to fall off,” I groan, melting sideways into my cousin’s couch.

“It’s like I said, Safi, we need to nip this in the bud right now. It’ll only take a minute, I promise.”

“Sure,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“Now, have you heard of something the Christians call ‘accountability partners’?”

“Oh no…”

“Yup! From now on, I am going to be holding you accountable to the pillars! For the next few weeks, I’m gonna be reminding you to do your prayers and I want you to text me when you’re done!”

“I have an app for that…”

“Does it help you put in enough time for Salat?”

I heave a sigh. “No, I guess not.”

“Exactly. I’ve also put together a weekly schedule for you, for Qu’ran readings,” she continues, texting me the short list.

I look through it on my own phone. “Hm. Ah, Aïda, I’ve noticed that you put that one Sura from Imran on here.”

She looks away and looks back to me. “Maybe so.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not slick, cuz,”

She rolls her eyes. “I know, but just humor me. I’m doing this for you. I’ll be coming up every Saturday afternoon, too, around Asr, so we can talk about what you’ve read!”

“Mmhm. There’s quite a bit going through my head right now, but I don’t have the energy to sort through all of it tonight. “

“We’ll get it sorted out, I’m sure!”

“Yup.”

 

My physical and emotional exhaustion make the trip upstairs last forever. It sounds cliché, but I’m far too tired to sleep right now, and I need to hear Marion’s voice.

“Hey, babydoll!” Marion greets me after two rings. “What’s up?”

“Aïda went overboard.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

“Yeah. She put together a schedule and she’s gonna be calling me to check on my prayers. And I was having such a good day, too. I helped my parents out at the store, and I showed them a print of mine that they liked, and it would’ve been perfect if Aïda didn’t have to try and ‘nip shit in the bud’.”

“All this over nighttime prayers??”

“Yup. I’d ignore her, but she knows something about my past that I’d really prefer she didn’t repeat to my parents.”

“I get that. I tell you what: After your mosque lets out, tomorrow, why don’t you and I spend the rest of the day together?”

“You don’t have anything planned?”

“Well, I’m going to my mom’s house for dinner that evening, but if you wanna come with, I’m sure she’d love to have you. Plus…I think I have a way to help you out with Aïda.”

“I’ll take all the help I can get.”

September 18, 11:30

I’ve agreed to meet Marion at the Home Goods by her place. It’s attached to the T.J. Maxx next door, so it’s pretty huge. I’m tempted to quell the Maxxinista inside and buy some cute shirts, but that’s not what I’m here for.

I find Marion among the mattresses, marveling at how high they’ve stacked them.

“Reminds me of the Princess and The Pea.”

I take hold of her arm in mine. “What are you looking for, sweetie?”

“A wall piece.” She takes my hand and leads me to a huge wall with all sorts of clocks and metal flowers and geometric shapes.

“I need something unique but not too flashy. What do you think?”

“Hmm…” I scan the wall slowly. A blue daisy with a yellow pistil stands out almost immediately. “What about that one?”

“I like it.” That was quick. “It’s good for what I need.”

“And what do you need?”

You’ll see,” she replies, smirking.

We buy the flower, along with a red rug, and stick them into the back seat of Marion’s car. “For this next stop we’ll need to go to Newark. I wanna show you my favorite toy store.”

“A toy store?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been!”

“Well, sure, but—”

Something in Marion seems to click suddenly. “Oh. _Ohhh._ This isn’t that kind of toy store, honey. Let me show you the light.”

 

After about a 20-minute drive, I beat Marion to a much smaller store simply called “Newark Love Shop”.

I open the door and nearly faint upon getting a good look.

There’s barely any empty space on the walls here. Butt plugs to the left of me, dildos to the right, sexy underwear in front…I don’t know where to start.

Fortunately, a friendly clerk who looks to be around 40 or 50 gives me something singular to look at. “Hi, welcome to Newark Love Shop! You seem a bit lost.”

“Um, yeah. I’ve never been here before. I haven’t been to a sex store at all, actually…” I reply, chuckling nervously.

She looks at me sympathetically. “Aww, a toy store virgin! Well, I can help you, but first I need to make sure you’re old enough to be in here…”

“Oh! Yeah, sure!” I reply, hurriedly getting out my wallet and giving her my ID.

She looks at it for a second and gives it back to me. “Perfect. Now, I think a great place to start would be the dildos—”

We hear the door swing open behind us as Marion bursts in. “Hey, babe! Sorry, I got caught in a bit of traffic. I see you’ve already met Jess.”

“Hey, Marion! You know her?”

“Yeah, we’ve been dating for a bit. I wanted to show her how much fun toys are,” she replies, taking my hand.

Jess touches a hand to her chest. “Aww! I was actually about to show her the vibrators, so you came at just the right time.” She leads us to the dedicated wall. “There’s a few things you need to think about when shopping around: How big it is, what kind of lube you should use, that kinda thing. Why don’t you look around a bit? I can tell you whatever you need to know.”

“Thank you!” She leaves us to shop.

I get a good look at the things. Some of them are more realistic than others, and some are just plain terrifying. I’m only slightly less overwhelmed.

“This is a lot…” I whisper to Marion.

“I know. Isn’t it great? I love their selection. You ever use a toy before, hon?”

“Mm-mm. If I’m not with anyone at the time, I’ll usually just use my fingers. I don’t imagine they have anything that small here…”

“Oh, they do. But I don’t know if they’ll do much. I don’t think it’d hurt to spread yourself out a bit, do you?”

I frown in thought.

“I mean, I’m not saying get an All-American right off the bat, but you might wanna start with something just a little bit bigger than you’re used to.”

I make a noise of assent. “I guess. Okay...” I take a deep breath and point to a red dildo that looks safe to start with. “I like that one.”

Marion plucks it off the wall for me and turns the box around in her hands. It’s about 6 inches long, and pretty veiny now that I’m getting a good look at it. “Hm. It’s hefty enough, but depending on how long it’s been since you had anything inside you, it might be a bit much. In any case, you’re gonna want a lot of lube for this one. You don’t want it going inside you dry.”

“Makes sense.” I turn around towards the table stocked with at least 5 brands of lubes, and pick up one from a company called Jambo.

“Hey, Jess, what do you think of this?” I show her the bottle.

“Oh, no, honey, you don’t want that one,” she says, shaking her head.

“Why not?”

“That one’s not very good. On top of that, it’s silicone based. You try to use it with the one Marion’s got over there…”

“Won’t be nothin’ to sit on,” Marion finishes.

Jess smiles. “Yup. Eat right through it. Water based is best.”

My eyes widen. “I have a lot to learn…”

Marion comes up behind me and places her hands on my shoulders. “I know; I was overwhelmed too, when I first started buying stuff like this. That’s why me and Jess are here!” She pecks me on the cheek, making me giggle.

“In the meantime, why don’t we get some more and work our way up?”

“Okay~”

We do get a few smaller ones, as well as one bigger one, and laugh at the badly written porn magazines they have on sale (“Why would you use cough syrup as lube?!”) and head out.

3:30

I help Marion haul the wall decoration and the rug into her apartment, then we flop onto the couch together, Marion draped across my knees on her stomach.

“I’ve never seen so many dicks in my life,” I breathe, twisting a finger into the hem of my girlfriend’s shirt.

“Well, now you have some of your own!” She exclaims, turning around in my lap to face me. “I don’t want it to be all about me.”

“It hasn’t been though.”

“Still, I want you to have as much fun as I’m having.”

She sits up and turns towards me, placing a hand on my thigh. “And it’s like I said…it doesn’t hurt to stretch out a little, hmm?” She purrs in my ear, making me shiver.

“Mmm…I’ll try anything once,” I reply, turning my head to kiss her.

“That’s the spirit.” She stands up from the couch and stretches. Right now, I need to plant this flower.”

Marion gets her phone from her pocket and opens Google maps. “Okay, so it’s…east-southeast…so…towards this wall.”

She looks at the space between the couch and the snack bar and nods, then grabs two metal hooks, for a bag on the bar peels off the backs, places the hooks into the back of the wall piece and carefully places it on the wall there. She then grabs the rolled-up rug and unrolls it in front of the daisy.

“There! How’s that look, Safi?”

I walk up beside her and wrap my arms around her waist. “…Marion, did you just make me a prayer nook?”

“You like it? I had to do a bit of research.”

I open the Qibla app on my phone. It says we’re facing the right direction.

“Marion…!” I squeal, planting kisses all over her cheek. “It’s perfect. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done! Thank you so much~”

She kisses me back and squeezes me tight. “Of course, baby. Now what do you say we head over to my parents’ place? My mother is dying to meet you.”

“Okay!”

4:00

We walk up the steps of a medium sized house about 10 minutes away from Marion’s apartment.

“So your parents still live here?” I ask, trailing behind Marion.

“Yup! Most of the time it’s just my mom, but they’ve been here since a couple years before I was born.”

I take a look at the flowers they’ve planted. “They’ve kept a beautiful garden. You guys seem partial to hollyhocks…”

“It’s our family flower.” She knocks on the door. “Mom? It’s us!”

A few seconds later, a short, middle aged woman with hair like Marion’s answers the door, and the two wrap each other into a tight hug.

“Ohhh, I’m so happy to see you, babygirl!” The woman exclaims, kissing Marion on the cheek.

“You too, Mommy!” Marion replies. She lets go, puts an arm around her shoulder and motions toward me. “Mom, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Safiya Alfarsi. Safi, this is my mother, Layla!”

Layla extends a hand towards me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Safiya.”

I gulp, but return the handshake. “Likewise!”

“Y’all come in, dinner is almost ready.” We follow her into the house.

Marion’s entire family seems to have a real thing for interior design too.

“I love what you’ve done with the place, Mrs. Decampe!”

“Real estate will do that for you,” she replies, walking towards the oven and turning the inside light on. “The Decampes have always been inherent decorators.”

“You didn’t marry into the family?”

“Oh no, dear. I kept my last name.”

“I don’t know a lot of men who would be okay with that.”

She shrugs. “Their loss. I was surprised as you are, honestly.”

She retrieves a pair of oven mitts and pulls out a beautiful roast beef surrounded by an assortment of broiled vegetables.

“Now, to properly welcome you to our home, I thought I’d make my specialty!”

Marion squeals with excitement. “Yes! Free lunch for tomorrow!”

Layla gives each of us several slices of beef and a spoonful of vegetable, and sits down to join us.

“So Marion told me you live in Madison, Safiya?”

“Yes, ma’am; my parents are Iranian, but I’ve lived there all my life. My neighborhood in particular is primarily Muslim, but they’ve been really supportive.”

She nods. “Oh, that’s good!”

“There are a few who either don’t know about me and Marion, or they know but don’t approve…” I squeeze Marion’s hand. “But it’s fine. I have the blessing of my parents and, so far, God’s blessing, so I’m not really concerned.”

Layla smiles. “If you feel that’s what’s important, then that’s all that matters.”

“Mom, you talked to Daddy lately?” Marion asks, eating another spoonful of green beans.

“Mmhmm. He said this year’s classes look promising this year. He’s excited to see how their projects and midterms go.”

“What does your dad teach, anyway?”

“Management, at Smeal. I took like two classes with him my sophomore year!”

“He told me you had to stop yourself from calling him ‘Dad’ in class,” Layla adds teasingly.

“Wha—nuh-uh!”

I giggle. “Aw, Marion, still a daddy’s girl?”

She swats at my arm and looks away. “Don’t be mad, hun; I think it’s sweet,” I amend, kissing her check apologetically. “And daddy’s girl or not, you obviously did something right. I’m proud of you.

She slowly looks back at me and smiles wanly. “Well, thanks, I guess.” She returns the kiss.

Later, after the dishes are done, Mrs. Decampe offers to show me around the house. With Marion’s permission, she shows me her old room. It’s pretty much what I expected; it looks more like an office than a bedroom.

“Did Marion tell you she lived here for a while after school?”

“She did. This is just like her.”

“Funny thing is, she hadn’t been planning on coming back home at all; she was going to get an apartment with her girlfriend at the time and ‘start their empires together’, her words. After they broke up, she told us she was just going to bury herself in her work and never think about love or relationships or anything like that ever again. It may have just been her broken heart talking, but it didn’t hurt any less.”

I think back to what Marion told me the night of our date. I knew it’d hit her pretty hard, but I didn’t know she was prepared to just shut down socially. “She did tell me about that.”

“She’d been so excited to start her life with her too.” She turns to me and smiles. “But I’m happy she changed her mind. You girls must be wonderful together; I haven’t seen her this happy since she started school!”

“Thank you. She’s very good to me. I would’ve loved to see her on her first day at school.”

“I can show you right now! We have a book of family pictures in the living room.

 

Layla leads me there and retrieves a huge scrapbook from underneath the coffee table.

“Marion,” She calls into the kitchen, “We’re looking at family pictures!”

“Aw, Ma!” Marion replies, exasperated but emerging from the kitchen and sitting on the arm of the couch next to me. “Are you gonna show her my terrible middle school drawings?”

Layla looks at her sideways. “I wasn’t going to, but now that you mention it…”

Marion makes a noise of discomfort and turns away from us, covering her eyes.

Her mother flips to the first few pages of the scrapbook. “Now she did these around 6th or 7th grade as an end-of-the-year school project. They were told to do portraits of family members. That’s her, and myself, and her father…”

All of these are really good, Marion!” I say, looking up at her back.

She turns around slightly. “You think so?”

“Yeah! I know you said you had an artist phase in high school. I guess this is where that came from.”

“Well, I did get a really good grade on these, so that didn’t help.”

“I think it did. I don’t think even I was this good in middle school.”

“Oh, whatever.”

Mrs. Decampe flips a few pages forward. “Oh! And this is where we keep the pictures of everyone’s first day of college!”

“Ooh, this section is my favorite!” Marion says, turning around to face us. “You can actually tell what decade they were taken!”

“There’s Marion’s grandma, there’s me, there’s Marion—that one’s my favorite—and there’s…oh…”

Layla falters. I look where her finger is pointing.

It’s a young man of about 18, wearing a flannel shirt with a Dr. Pepper t-shirt underneath, and a huge afro, smiling front of a stack of dorm items.

“That’s Robbie. Marion’s uncle. Layla looks sad all of a sudden. “He was so excited. His senior year of high school all he talked about was getting into Kappa Alpha Psi…”

“Did he?”

“Oh, yes. Hell Week flew by for him, it felt like. They welcomed him with open arms.

I look at Marion again. She suddenly looks really uncomfortable…

“Nothing happened to him, it’s just…the summer after that, he was an entirely different person. I don’t know what they talked about in that house, but it really—wha--?? Marion!”

Marion’s reached over and shut the book in Layla’s lap. “Safi doesn’t wanna hear all that, Mommy.”

I blink. “What? What do you mean? I don’t mind—“

“It’s getting late, and I wanna get her home. Besides, I think we have leftovers to gather…” she says, her head jerking towards the kitchen. I think she wants to talk about more than roast beef, but I don’t wanna pry…

Layla sighs, perhaps a bit too deeply. “Alright. Let me wrap up the food for you…”

 

6:00 pm: Marion]

“And I was having such a good time, too…” I mutter just loudly enough for my mother to hear as I saran wrap my portion of the leftovers.

My mother clucks her tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with a little trip down memory lane, Marion. ‘Hotep’ or not, Robbie is still your uncle.”

“Still, don’t be airing out our dirty laundry in front of Safiya.”

I’m sorry, baby, it’s just…I can’t stop feeling like I went wrong somewhere with my baby brother…”

“Mom, we’ve been over this. Robbie is not your fight.”

She smiles wanly. “I guess so. Now, come on, let’s get y’all out of here.”

At the front door, we both hug my mother goodbye and are walking down the steps towards my car when Safiya tugs on my sleeve. “Um…”

I turn my head. “You okay, babe?”

“I should be asking you that. Did…did something happen with your uncle? Did you wanna talk about it?”

I can feel her worry. I turn bodily towards her, place my hands on her waist and look her in the eye. “No, no, Safi, nothing like that, I promise. It’s just…different worldviews. I’ll leave it at that.”

She hums sympathetically, draping her arms across my shoulders and dropping her head against mine. “Okay. I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

“I know. Now let’s get to my place. I know just the thing that’ll get my mind off all this: Another lesson.”

6:10:

As soon as we get in the door, I retrieve the black bag from beside the couch and shake its contents out onto my coffee table. Inside was the red dildo Safiya first picked out at Newark, as well as all the smaller ones that we thought would be good additions. I line them up on the table so that they look like nesting dolls. Safiya regards them, almost surprised.

“What’s up?”

“These look a lot bigger out of the box…”

I kiss her cheek. “We’ve had a really busy day. We can hold off if you want...”

She takes a deep breath. “No, no, I wanna do this. I’m just scared I’ll chicken out.”

I think for a minute. “I have an idea. Follow me.”

I grab three of the dildos, as well as the bottle of lube, and take her by the hand, leading her into my bathroom.

6:30pm: Safiya

Marion’s bathroom feels incredibly relaxing. It’s softly lit, she’s put down a _very_ plush red rug covering most of the floor, and there’s even a small Bose radio on the countertop.

She goes into the towel closet and pulls out a half cylinder from the bottom shelf. There’s a small circular dip at the top. “I got this a long time ago, during one of my splurges. You can put a dildo right here,” she says, pointing at the dip, “and ride cowgirl! This way, you can go at your own pace.”

I look at the thing for a long time, and finally say, “Alright, let’s do this.”

We strip each other and start making out, pressing our bodies against one another. I lose my hands in her hair, and she responds by sliding her hands down my back, and grabbing hold of my ass cheeks, squeezing firmly.

She walks forward, not breaking the kiss, and lays me down in front of the bathtub. She takes my hands in hers, lacing our fingers together, and stars nipping at my neck. “I’m gonna take good care of you, baby,” she whispers in my ear, freeing a hand to thumb at my nipple. “We’re gonna get you nice and wet…”

With that, she dives between my legs and begins to lick and suck on my clit. I moan and start to play with my nipples when she stops suddenly.

“Ahhh…why are you stopping?”

She raises up and rubs at my clit with my thumb. “I want you to do it. Show me how you play with yourself, baby.”

_Uh oh. You think she knows?_

_That’s not possible. I haven’t told her anything about that night. I have no reason to._

_Well, whatever. Get to it._

I do what she asks, and start slowly rubbing my clit, lowering my other hand to pull one lip to the side to give Marion a better view.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Marion breathes, pawing at her own breast with one hand and biting her lip, seemingly in a trance.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She slowly slips a finger inside me, gasping at the meager resistance it puts up.

“Mmm, I think you’re ready. Which one you wanna try first, honey?” She drapes herself over me and kisses me on the lips.

“…I think I wanna try the biggest one we got first. Just to see how long it’s been.”

“Okay. Gimme a minute.”

She plucks the red dildo from the countertop and installs it into the ramp, then drenches it with lube and beckons me to her.

It extends 8 inches from the ramp, and it looks vaguely threatening, but I think I can handle it. I position myself over the thing and spread myself open.

Marion puts a hand on my back to guide me. “You ever ride cowgirl before?”

“Nope. Missionary or doggy style, either or.”

She looks at me sympathetically. “Oh, you have been missing out. Now, you just need to lower your hips…that’s it…”

I get past the head just fine, but soon it starts spreading me open far wider than I’m used to. “Ow. Owowowow…!” I pull out almost immediately.

Marion places a hand on my thigh, a worried expression on her face. “You okay??”

I cup my pussy with one hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It’s…a little big right now,” I reply, wincing.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. You wanna stop?”

I shake my head. “No. I still wanna try out the other ones. Let’s see about the 4 incher.”

She shrugs. “Alright. You should probably go a little slower this time, though…” She detaches the red dildo and replaces it with the smallest one. This one is a lot easier to deal with, but…

“Hmm. It’s kinda small. I can barely feel it.”

Marion snickers. “You wanna go with the six-inch?”

“Yes, please.”

She puts in the six inch.

“Oooh…that’s much better~” I purr, wiggling my hips.

Marion comes behind me and takes hold of my waist. “Now, you just need to move up and down, like this…good girl…”

She lets go, letting me fuck myself on the ramp. “It helps if you move your hips in a circle.”

“Like this? Ahh!” I gyrate my hips, and I can feel how hard it is inside me.

“Yeah, just like that. That feel good, baby?” She purrs in my ear, taking hold of my breasts from behind me and moving in to nip and lick at it.

“Ohhh…yesss…”I moan, placing my own hand on one of hers and rocking my hips faster. Oh, I’m so close…

“You wanna cum for me? You wanna cum with my dick inside you?”

“Yes, ple-ease!” Please, just a little bit longer…

“Stop.” She removes her hands from my chest.

Her request actually makes me stop in my tracks. “Wh…what?”

_What the hell??_

“Stand up.”

_Aw, come on!!_

I do as I’m told, but still make a sound of protest as I feel the dildo slowly slide out of me.

“Marion, what are you doing? I was so close…!” I whine, my pussy clenching around nothing.

“You don’t get to cum yet. This is a lesson, remember?”

Uh oh. I completely forgot.

She puts a finger under my chin. “Let’s go to my room, babygirl. I think I’ve found a use for the chode…”

7:15pm: Marion.

I feel kinda bad for making her stop like that, but she’ll thank me later. Right now, I’ve got something to show her.

Within 5 minutes, I have tied Safiya’s wrists to my bedpost with my silk rope, blindfolded, with a pillow beneath her elbows so she can prop herself up, and placed one of my ramps with the ankle cuffs under her ass, so that it’s in the air, her dripping pussy in full view for me.

I’m pretty sure I’m drooling right now. With one hand, I stroke her ass cheeks, lightly slapping them to make them jiggle. It’s so fucking hot…

“Marion~ please fuck me, I was so close, please…!” Safi pleads, wiggling her ass in front of me, trying to entice me to action.

“In a minute, babygirl. I’m gonna play with you first…”

I grab hold of her ass again and spread her cheeks open, making her jump. I lightly poke at it with my tongue, and lick at the creases, before slowly sliding a wet finger inside. “That feel okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Safi hums breathily, her asshole squeezing around me. “You want me to fuck this asshole?”

She nods feverishly. I relube the 4-inch dildo and slowly press it into her. She gasps and tenses up a bit, but doesn’t protest as it inches inside.

I work it in and out of her to test the waters, then slide it in to the base and rub her clit to distract her somewhat from the new sensation.

“Ohhhh…Marion…” Her clit is slippery to the touch, and her pussy is clenching around nothing, and I know what she wants but I can’t give it to her just yet. Instead, I press myself against her and run my hands up her stomach slowly, until I’m cupping her breasts, rolling the nipples between my fingers.

“Mmm, I love your tits so much, baby…they feel so good in my hands…” I whisper in her ear, biting and sucking on the lobe. “You want me to fuck your pussy?”

“Ohhh, please…!” she whines.

“Ask me properly.”

“Ple…please fuck my pussy, please make me cum, I need you inside me so bad…!”

“Good girl,” I purr, sitting up and taking the 6-inch dildo, lubing it and pressing it against her pussy. She backs up against it almost immediately, pushing the very tip into her. I push the rest into her and she moans low and long.

“Ohhhhh, thank you so much…!”

I position it under her and she grinds against it.

“Yeah, back that ass up for me, baby,” I purr, working the other dildo in and out of her asshole again.

“Oh, yes, just like that—oh, fuck!” she rocks her hips faster. “Oh, Marion, I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum…!”

“Go ahead baby, cum on my dick…”

“Ffffuck, ahh--!!” Her pussy starts squeezing around the dildo, and her legs start shaking. I keep fucking both holes, feeling slippery warmth on my fingers.

As she begins to relax, I slowly pull both dildos from her pussy and ass and untie her from my bedpost.

“Okay, I’m gonna take this off, now…” I say, slowly removing the blindfold from her face.

She squeezes her eyes shut, blinks a few times and looks up at me. “Fuck…that was so good…” she breathes, leaning up to kiss me on the lips.

“Mmm…I’m glad you liked it.” I undo the shackles on her ankles and slide the ramp out from under her, before taking her into my arms and pulling the covers over us. “I think you should take it home and practice with it. We can put Big Red to use quicker that way!”  


“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“I named my toys all the time. My very first vibrator was named Tyrone.”

She bursts into laughter. “Tyrone?!”

“Don’t judge me! I was excited!”

After about an hour, we finally manage to untangle from each other, and I head back into the bathroom to clean all the toys and Safiya throws on her hijab, a robe and some of my sweatpants to do her prayers…

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

September 24, 2:00 pm : Safiya

“So! On the list for this week was from Sura al-Hashr, verse 19. Safi, you wanna tell me what you read?

Just like she promised, Aïda has come up to my apartment so that she can whip me into shape. She’s sitting on my couch cross-legged, and, from my position on my bed, flat on my back, craning my neck to look in her direction, she looks like she’s upside down. I giggle to myself at this thought.

“Safi, what’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing, cuz.”

“In that case, can you read the verse for this week?”

I flip myself around. “Sure: So do not believe those who forgot Allah, so he made them forget themselves. Those are the truly disobedient.”

“I think that’s pretty straightforward. Don’t forget who you are and whose you are.”

I quirk my eyebrow. “Oh, I know who I am.”

Aïda looks at me seriously. “But at one point you forgot _whose_ you are, and you can’t have one without the other.”

I look away from her and have to strain not to sneer. I suddenly have a slight headache, but I’ll humor her.

“I didn’t forget. It was a moment of weakness.”

“A moment of weakness that extended into an entire semester. Allah loves you, but if you’re not going to reciprocate that love and just have all the fun you want, he’s not gonna force you. He’ll leave you alone if you want, but trust me, you don’t want that.”

“Do you have to remind me of that every time we do this?”

“As many times as it takes to get through to you.”

Aïda leaves after a bit more patronizing, and I am left with my head throbbing. I flop back onto my bed, absentmindedly touching myself.

_You know…now would be a good time to train._

_But my head is killing me._

_This’ll take your mind off it. Besides, you’ve done it, like, once or twice all week._

_I’ve been busy._

_Well, now you’re not._

_…good point._

I sit up and decide to try the 7-inch today, but first, I’ll need to set the mood…

10 minutes later…

This looks good. I’ve lit my favorite basil-scented candle and put on my Bonobo playlist on Pandora. I can’t exactly dim the lights because 1. My apartment isn’t fancy enough for that, and 2. I actually need to see to do this. Otherwise, I might end up stuffing this thing in my ass, and I’m not ready for that. Yet.

I’m gonna be using my bathroom stool; I am not about to ruin my chairs for this. It’s sitting in the middle of my living bedroom kitchen floor, the rainbow dildo attached to it by its suction cup, drenched in translucent white lubricant. I gulp, but remove my sweatpants and panties, and roll my shirt up, exposing my breasts.

I take a deep breath and whisper , “Tawakkaltu ala Allah.”

 _It’s not that deep._ Heh heh, deep.

_What if I tear something??_

_I think you would know if something tore. Get on with it._

Just like the first time, I stand directly over the dildo, my pussy spread with two fingers.

“Okay, now just…lower your hips like Marion said…”

It’s kind of a tight fit, and it hurts some, even with the combination of lube and my own wetness, but I’m able to get almost all the way to the base, after what feels like forever.

_Fuck…it feels huge…_

I sit motionless, trying to adjust to the length inside me. I lean back slowly, and message my clit to take my mind off it. Finally, I can feel my walls beginning to relax, and I slowly move my hips.

“Nngh…ahh…”

Soon, I feel less friction inside, and I’m able to move a bit faster and in slightly longer strokes.

“Ooohfffuck…Oh, Marion…” my arousal is heightened when I think back to last Sunday evening with her, thinking about her breasts pressed against my back, her hands working my clit, her lips against my neck…

_God, you look so good, baby…your nipples are so fucking hard…_

 I pinch my nipple and roll it in between my fingers, moving faster against the dildo, jamming my knuckles between my teeth to stifle my moans when the head suddenly brushes against my g-spot.

“Nngh!! Fuck!” I whisper -scream, gyrating my hips so that the head keeps grinding against that spot.

_Mmm, fuck that dick, babygirl…_

“Hahhh…goddammit…Marion, I’m so close…!” I cry, my pace quickening, my rubbing frantically at my clit.

_Do it. Cum all over my cock, you little slut._

My pussy squeezes tightly around the dildo and I shudder uncontrollably. I barely manage to stifle my cries with one hand, and my legs are shaking so much I’m worried the stool will slide out from under me.

Finally, my body relaxes, and I drop my head, slicking my hair back with one shaky hand. I’m pretty sure there’s sweat in my hair now, but I don’t care.

I swallow and try to catch my breath, realizing what just happened.

Did I just fantasize about Marion calling me a slut?

Did I just _cum_ while fantasizing about Marion calling me a slut??

Huh.

_You learn something new everyday._

I start to stand up, but…I have an urge to cum again.

 _Ooh, you want more, huh?_ I imagine Marion taking a seat in front of me.

“Mm-hmm~”

_Lean back and show me my cock inside you, baby._

I do so, rubbing my clit again, my eyes rolling back as I feel it getting more slippery under my fingers.

“Ohhh…oh, yes…oh, fuck me…” I moan, licking the juice from me fingers.

 _You’re so fucking sexy_.

“Yeah?” I breathe, leaning forward, my ass slapping against the stool.

_Fuck yeah. I just love watching your ass bounce like this._

I start spanking each cheek, digging my fingertips into my skin. I’m about to cum again already, but I wanna beg for it.

“Oh, Marion, please let me cum again! It’s so much and I wanna cum so fucking bad…!”

_Fucking cum, slut!_

“Oh, yes! Ohhh, thank you so much…!” I moan, and grind my hips quickly against the stool, until I cum one last time, my entire body convulsing.

After what seems like an eternity, my body relaxes again, and I manage to slowly pull the dildo out of myself before collapsing onto my floor, fanning myself and throwing an arm over my eyes.

 _Jesus ffffuck…I’m seeing spots. Where are my legs?_  
  


_Who cares?_

I finally regain enough strength to get up and shakily walk to my bathroom to start a hot bath. I think about calling Marion. But Decampe Décor is open today, meaning she’s occupied. I wonder how she’s doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tawakkaltu ala Allah = I put my trust in Allah


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marion gets the deal of a lifetime. But there's a catch.
> 
> Sorry! I've been super busy!

**Chapter 20**

“Yo, Marion! Someone on the phone for you!” Devon calls from the back office.

“Did they say who they  were?”

“I think she said her name was Riley, from Shovels and Something. Something about a project?”

I head towards the office, where Devon hands me the phone and takes my place at the cash register.

“Hello, this is Marion Decampe.”

“Hi, Marion, this is Riley Marks at the corporate office of Shovels and Soil. I’ll get right to it: My employer, Marcus Adelaye, is in the process of renovating our office break room as well as his own office, and he asked me to do some research concerning who to entrust with furnishing them once the dust settles. He’s very passionate about supporting local business, and your establishment had multiple glowing reviews…”

Holy shit.

Is this happening right now??

“And so we would like for you to come in so we can discuss specifics with us over the next few weeks.

It is!! I’m about to blow up what the fuck I can’t—

I shut off my frantic thoughts long enough to reset and respond, “Of course! I’d love to be of assistance. We recently put in our fall collection, and I think Mr. Adelaye would be pleased with what he finds when he’s ready.”

“Excellent. In the meantime, would you like to come in on this upcoming Wednesday, around 8:30-9, so see what you have to work with?”

“That would be perfect. I have a few arrangements to make and I’ll need to inform my team, but that can definitely be done.”

“Great! We’ll see you Wednesday morning!”

“Of course!” I make sure to hang up properly so that Riley won’t hear me when I squeal giddily, hopping up and down. I must have been a little too loud, because Signora Adolfo comes in and knocks on the open door.

“Marion, _stai bene_? What’s all this screaming about??”

I fast-walk towards her and place my hands on her shoulders. “We have a gig, Signora!”

“What? A gig??”

I take her hand and walk back out front to meet the others. “Mina! Everyone! We have a commission!”

My employees whirl around in astonishment. “A commission? Is that what that was about?”

I put my finger to my lips “Shh! I want it to be a surprise for the customers. But they want us to furnish an entire breakroom space _and_ a private office!”

Devon squeals as quietly as possible. “That’s amazing, Boss!

Mina wraps me in a huge hug. “Ahh! This is so exciting! When are we going to tell the customers?”

“I’m gonna send out emails and put it on the website. There’s a few people I wanna tell personally, though…”

I go back to the back office to make a few calls…rather, to make _a_ call to my mother.

“Omigod, Mommy, you will _not_ believe what just happened--!!”

“Whoa, honey, calm down! What just happened??”

“I got a commission! This company just asked me to help furnish a few rooms in a corporate office!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, sweetie! Do you know the name?”

“Um, I believe they’re called Shovels and Soil…?”

“Oh, I go there are the time for flower seeds!”

“So they’re legit?”

“Completely.  And I think someone in the family works in the corporate office.”

“Oh yeah? Do you know who?”

“Ahh, it _may_ have been one of your cousins. I might be wrong. Anyway, you gonna tell Safiya?”

“Obviously! She’s one of the people who helped me get here! Listen, I gotta plan for next week, so I’m gonna let you go. I love you!”

“I love you too, and I’m so proud of you.”

“Aww, Ma!”

I head up to Safiya’s apartment building, though I have to dig through my Maps history a bit to find the address(I really need to visit her more often)…

When she answers the door, my girlfriend is in an apron tied over very comfy looking pajamas, a box of brownie mix in her arm.

She greets me with a smile. “Oh hey, babe! What’s up?”

“I got a gig!” I reply, placing my hands on her waist.

She furrows her eyebrows. “A gig?”

“Yeah! This gardening company asked me to help fix up their office!”

Her eyes widen and she squeals, pulling me into her apartment and embracing me. “Oh my god, that’s amazing! I’m so excited for you, hon!” She kisses my cheek. “Have you told anyone else?”

“Just my parents and my employees. I’m opening late Wednesday to meet with them about specifics, but oh my god I can’t believe this is happening, I’m gonna pass out…!!” I squeal, grasping Safiya’s elbows and bouncing up and down again.

“Hey what’s up?” A voice calls to my right. I stop bouncing and turn my head in that direction to see a familiar looking Latina woman retrieving things from Safiya’s cupboards, also wearing pajamas. I release myself from my girlfriend’s embrace to greet her properly.

“Oh, hello! Didn’t you come to the shop a while ago? Lauren, was it?”

 “Yup! Lauren Nuñez!” She extends a hand to me. “It’s nice to see you again! I’m surprised you remember me, though; that was like, June, yeah?”

“Safi talks about you all the time. Plus, you were really excited about that clock.”

“Oh!” She chuckles nervously. “Yeah, I guess I was!”

“How’s it treating you, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s so great. It fits in really well with the rest of my stuff. I told my _abuela_ about you because you deserve more money.”

I tug on my jacket. “That’s kind of you to say! Hopefully your abuela finds what she needs when she comes in. Also, were y’all in the middle of something?” There’s a bunch of mixing bowls and measuring cups on Safiya’s countertop.

Safiya comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head on my shoulder. “I have a bunch of mixes that I never used, so we were just about to make a shit-ton of brownies and stuff. You want in?”

“Hell yeah!”

Safi throws me a pajama set, and we spend the next few hours cleaning Safi’s cupboards of brownie mixes and weird tubes of cookie mix, adding fruits and sprinkles and chocolate drops to everything, washing and re-washing the bowls as we bake multiple batches (“There’s gonna be some chocolate in these…”) and end up with four full plates of snickerdoodles, brownies, chocolate chip cookies and salted caramel, stacked into pyramids of sweet, tooth-rotting goodness on their own separate plates. It’s almost dizzying.

We decide to line the plates up on Safiya’s coffee table and pick what we want while we binge watch It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia from the first episode, until we run out…

12:00 midnight:

The pyramids are down to their last few bricks, and we’re on one of my favorite episodes: “The Gang Gives Back”, where everyone has to do community service, but fuck it up royally, because it’s the Gang. The way it all comes together just slays me.

I’m amazed I have any idea what’s going on, because I have gorged myself mostly on caramel and I am food drunk. Lauren is lying on our laps, absentmindedly chewing one of the last brownie squares, laughing at Charlie trying to dispose of the bottle he was drinking from on the way to his Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, in one of their trashcans. Safiya is barely awake, and apparently has no intention of trying to stay up for much longer, especially since she seems to be enjoying me playing with her hair.

“So…” Lauren begins, rolling around to face me. “You’re makin’ the big time, huh? Gonna sell your chairs to people?”

I snort. “I _been_ selling chairs to people.”

She swallows. “Yeah, but, you’re gonna, like, sell a bunch of chairs to people…all at once. And you’ll get a bunch of cash for it.”

“Whoa. You’re right. I’m gonna get… _more_ money.” I drawl, staring straight ahead to deal with this realization. “They’re not, like, Menards or nothin’ though…”

“Hey, don’t be so modest!” Lauren pokes me gently in the cheek.

“I didn’t do it all by myself though. It was…it was a teeeeaam effort!”

“Still, that’s pretty big.”

I smile. “It is! I’m really excited, but I’m super nervous, too…”

Safiya lifts her head. “Mmm…you should be excited. You worked really hard for this,” she mumbles, pressing her lips to my other cheek. “I’m so proud of you, babe…”

“You guys...!” I take hold of Lauren’s hand and bring Safi closer to me, kissing her lips.

Eventually we pass out together on the couch, not bothering to wrap up the remainder of our baking.

Ahh, who cares? I’m in too good a mood. Nothing could ruin this for me.

September 28th, 8:00 am

I thought I’d get in on the earlier side of 8 in the morning to maximize my time here so I could get a good read on the spaces I’m working with and get to the shop to open by 10:30 like I said I would.

When I get there, it’s quite appropriate for a gardening company. The lobby is brightly lit, with full length windows and plants everywhere. They really know how to decorate.

The man’s office isn’t terribly hard to find; it’s just to the right of the staircase.

“Miss Decampe! So glad you could make it! And so early, too! Very nice, eh?”

“Good morning, Mr. Adelaye, was it? Pleasure to meet you!”

“Likewise! Please, please, sit! I’ve made mint tea for us!”

“Thank you!” I reply, pulling the glass saucer towards me, causing the leaves in the matching cup to jostle.

“It’s peppermint. My personal favorite.”

I take a tentative sip. Surprisingly, it isn’t scalding. “I’m not usually a tea woman, but this is delicious!”

Marcus ducks his head and sits across from me. “Thank you! Now, as Riley surely explained you, we are in the process of renovating a few spaces in the office, and I would like for you to help decorate after painting and such is done.”

“She has.”

“I will like to come in to your shop to see about my own office in particular, but you have free reign in the break room.”

“Thank you. I would like to tell you ahead of time, that depending on how long the remodeling itself takes, we may or may not have the exact same inventory.”

“As long as something speaks to me, it won’t matter.”

I really lucked out with this one…

“In the meantime, why not look at our break room? There’ll be some shifting around, but you can see what you have to work with, eh? It’s down the hall to the left.”

“Perfect! Then if you’ll excuse me.” I reply, rising to exit the office in that direction. I think I feel someone’s eyes on me, but think nothing of it and continue on my way.

The break room is equally as cheery, though somewhat disheveled with the renovations. It even looks like they’re gonna put in a few booths! Apart from that, I have a lot to work with.  

I draw up a crude floor plan so that once they’re ready I can determine what should go where, and head back towards Marcus’ office to talk to him about what I had in mind, but the door is closed. I take a quick peek inside to see if he’s busy and what I get is a short African-American man, presumably an employee by the way he’s dressed, gesturing rather excitedly about something. I see Marcus shake his head, looking mildly annoyed. Defeated, the employee turns to leave, and I just barely get away from the window, trying to act natural. The door opens and I’m faced with…

“Uncle Robbie??” I gasp almost too loudly before I’m able to stop myself.

Robbie turns towards me and startles, but plasters on a smile. “Marion! Hey! Uh, what are you doing here?” He almost seems like he wasn’t expecting me to still be around…

“I’m…helping with renovations. I didn’t know you worked here. Kinda weird seeing you without a dashiki, heh...”

“Mm. I guess so.” Without another word, my uncle heads back to his desk. I shrug and head back into Marcus’ office to finish my business for the time being. I wanna ask him what that was about, but it’s probably nothing, anyway…

6:00pm

Around closing time, Mina heads into the back office to answer the phone and almost immediately comes back out, looking a bit shaken. “Erm, Ms. Decampe, I’ve someone on the phone who insists on speaking with you personally. He didn’t say who he was, but he seemed rather put out…”

Put out? A bad purchase, maybe? “Thanks, Mina,” I reply, patting her shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.”

I head to the back office. “Hello, This is Marion, how—“

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’, little girl?” The person on the other end asks brusquely, cutting me off.

“…Excuse me?” I close the office door. This might get ugly.

“This is Imhotep. What do you think you’re doing in my office building?” Yup. This won’t end well.

“…I’m providing a service to your employer. I’m helping make your work space better. I don’t understand why that’s a problem--”

“What do I keep telling you? I said you need to act like a queen and not just wear the crown.”

I know exactly what he means. “Is that what this is about? Your idea of what I’m supposed to be??”

“It’s not my idea, Marion, it’s a fact of life. You’re not doin’ yourself or your people any favors by pretending to be something you’re not--”

I’m trying my damndest not to raise my voice. “And who are you to say what I am and what I’m not?”

“I’m your uncle, and I know you. I’m trying to save you some embarrassment. We’ll talk later.”

Click. I drop the receiver on my desk, drop into the chair and run my hair through my hands, my breathing ragged.

I should’ve known. Everything was going way too perfectly. I should’ve _fucking_ known--!!

6:30pm: Safiya

Literally the second I got in the door, it started pouring rain. This is the perfect opportunity to make some tomato soup. After I put it on to simmer, I perform _wudu_ and put on my prayer cloth. Right as I’m finishing up Mahgrib, there’s a single, heavy knock on my door.

I wish peace to nobody in particular, and then go to open my door and see Marion standing motionless in front of me. Her hair is dripping wet and she looks like she’s been crying. “Hey,” she mumbles.

“My God, babe, get in here! You’re gonna get sick!” I cry, pulling her by the hand into my apartment and seating her on my couch next to me. She doesn’t resist, and I don’t even care that she’s dripping all over my couch. “What are you doing without a hood or umbrella or anything? Are you okay??”

She sniffles. “No…” she replies, her voice cracking. I hurriedly take off my cloth, tossing it onto the back of the couch, and run to get the biggest towel I can find, and return to drape it over her head and shoulders. As I sit down next to her, head falls onto my lap. “Wha--? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“My _fucking_ uncle works at the gardening company…” she mumbles, and she sounds like there’s no life left in her.

“Really? Why is that bad?”

“It’s the uncle my mom was talking about at her house. He called me today to tell me to back out of the project.”

“What?! Why would he do that?!”

“He doesn’t think I’m acting like I’m ‘supposed’ to act as a woman. He says he’s thinking about me, but I know that’s bullshit. Like, what if he does something? I’m so scared, Safi, I just…” she trails off, burying her face in my knee and sobbing quietly.

“Oh, sweetie…” I coo, rubbing her back. “And you were so excited, too…”

“I know!” She replies, shooting up to face me. “What am I gonna do??”

My timer goes off.

“Well first…” I begin, rubbing her arms and rising to grab a few bowls and a ladle. “…you’re going to eat. And then we’re going to talk about this, and we’re going to figure something out. Okay?”

She sniffs, rubbing the towel over her hair and wrapping it around herself. “Okay…”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sexy time, and Marion rallies the troops.

6:45 pm: Safiya

After a few spoonfuls of soup and a lot of deep breathing, Marion is able to tell me the entire story.

“…and he had the nerve to go _complain_ to his _boss_ after he thought I was gone, and I’m sure he’s not stupid enough to come right out and tell him it’s because he thinks it’s a man’s job, but I still can’t trust him not to try and start some shit, and I just…I don’t know what to do…” she sighs, looking fit to cry again.

I hum sympathetically, and frown in thought for a moment. “Okay. Let’s slow down and think about this for a second. You said he’s already tried to get his boss to change his mind about you, right? And as far as you know, he’s the only person who would have any reason to be opposed to this arrangement, right?” I stand up and pace in front of her. She nods, exhaling.

“Okay. That was his first mistake. He’s made it obvious that he doesn’t want this to go through while you have anything to do with it. If he tries anything, breaks any property, interferes in any way, you’ll know it’s him.”

“Fine. But I don’t want it to come to that.”

“Just keep an eye on him when you can. Tell the others to do the same. From what I understand, he’s not trying to hurt you physically; he wouldn’t be able to get off unscathed. No, what he has to do is psych you out, scare you away.”

I sit back down and look Marion in the eye, taking her hands in mine. “He’s going to try to goad you into losing your cool and proving his point. You have all the power here. You can’t let him get in your head. Okay?”

She bites her lip and looks down. “You’re right,” she responds, resolute. “I just have to decide that I’m not gonna let him ruin this for me.”

I smile. “Exactly! You got this. And you know you can come to me if you think I could help in some way, okay?”

She smiles back and leans in to kiss me on the lips. “Yeah. Thank you, baby.” She chugs the rest of the soup and leans back to rest her head on the arm of the couch, massaging her temples and then burying her face in her hands. “God…but now I need some way to clear my head.”

I bite my lip. She literally just poured her soul out to me. Am I seriously considering…?

“Well…I know what helps me to relax…” I offer, lightly placing my hand on her knee, but immediately backing away. “I mean, only if you want to, of course. I know you’ve had a rough day--”

“If you’re talking about what I _think_ you’re talking about, that’s literally the best excuse,” she replies, peeking through her fingers.

“I mean, it helps.”

“Please.” She sits up to kiss me full on the lips again, draping her arms across my shoulders…

7:05pm

I’ve moved us to the bed, slowly stripping layers of clothing, and am now hovering over Marion, my tongue in her mouth and hers in mine. She lightly pushes me up.

“You sure you don’t want me to do you, too?”

I shake my head, bending down to gently brush my lips against her neck. “Mm-mm. This is all about you,” I whisper into her ear, making her gasp and squirm.

_I’m nailing this…!_

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Just tell me what you want me to do, okay?” I nibble on her earlobe.

“Ahh…okay. Can you…can you start with my nipples, then?”

“Mmm, sure,” I reply, pulling the cups of her bra down. I roll the dark buds in between my fingers, and flick my thumbs back and forth across the tips. Marion shifts under me and makes this noise in the back of her throat that just sets me alight.

I circle her nipples with my index fingers a few times before bending down and gently flicking my tongue over the left one, placing my lips over it and sucking, rubbing the pad of my finger over the other, taking in Marion’s quiet whimpers.

_Fuck this is so hot. Definitely one for the spank bank._

She gulps. “Ohhh, that’s so good…fuck…” she places a hand over the one I have on her breast and squeezes. “I need you to play with my pussy…Hurry~!”

I let up, making Marion gasp with one last flick of her nipples, before pulling her panties down and bracing my hands under her thighs. Her hands fly to her breasts as I lick the whole of her pussy a few times, then circle her clit with my tongue and suck vigorously, taking in her intensifying moans.

“Oh, fuck…Safi, my…my ass…”

“Hmm?” I raise my head to look at her.

“I need you to make me cum with my ass.”

I smile and bite my lips . “Of course.” I hook my arms under her thighs and sit up, bringing her up with me so that her butt is in the air, spread her butt cheeks and poke at her asshole with my tongue.

“Oh! Oh, yes, just like that—oooh~” she moans, lifting her legs from my shoulder and using one hand to rub her clit and the other to slide two fingers into her pussy. “Oh, Safi…yes…”

My own pussy throbs when I hear her say my name, but I ignore it and bury my tongue deeper inside her. “Oh fuck…! Right there! Yes!” she cries, freeing one hand to pull me in my the back of my head. “Oh, _please_ don’t stop, baby…!”

I respond my freeing one hand and reaching down to tease her nipple again, and she gasps and twitched, working her clit faster.

“Safi, you’re…I’m gonna c—” she manages, swallowing roughly. “Oh my god, it’s so much…” She’s so fucking cute.

“Go ahead and cum whenever you want, baby,” I purr, flicking my tongue against her asshole more quickly.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, _ffffuck,_ ahhh!!” She gasps, and her hand stops as she tenses up in my arms. Her asshole squeezes around the tip of my tongue over and over. “ Safi…!!

I’m fit to explode just looking at her ride out her orgasm, but I focus on her ass and the way she’s burning her fingerprints into my leg…

Once she’s done, I slowly let her down and crawl up beside her, and she throws an arm over her eyes and tries to slow her breathing. She exhales, sees me besides her and drapes an arm across my shoulder, burying her face into my neck.

“Good?” I coo, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She nods against my neck, grazing a fingernail along my arm. I roll onto my side and take her fully into my arms, stroking her hair and pressing my lips against her forehead.

“Mmm…you’re so amazing, Safi…that felt so good…” she hooks her arms under mine, gripping my shoulders. “Thank you. I feel a bit more centered, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. I know what I need to do next.”

By “next”, she means try to figure out what she wants to say to the rest of the team. We spend the rest of the night workshopping, Marion never bothering to put her clothes back on because she’s not going home anyway (“I really shouldn’t be alone right now.”)…

September 29, 6:45 am: Marion

I wake up at my usual time, but I don’t quite recognize my surroundings; the bedroom is in an open space. I remember that I stayed over at Safiya’s place for emotional support…but her side of the bed is empty. I sit up fully, and even though there’s not much light yet, I find her across the room, a couple inches from the bathroom door, praying in front of a gold circle with what I _think_ is the Arabic for God in the middle. I stay quiet and watch her.

After prostrating herself one more time, she turns her head fully to the left and to the right, folds one corner of her prayer rug inward, hangs the cloth she was wearing on a rack next to the reg, and turns to get back into bed.

She sees me and gasps softly. “Oh, Marion! Good morning!”

I smile. “’Mornin’. Are you always up this early?”

“Well, most of the time I’ll do sunrise prayer first, which is closer to when I wake up, but I woke up at like 6:30 and couldn’t go back to sleep,” she crawls into bed next to me. “So I figured, why not? Plus I wanted to get my prayers in for you early.”

I hum sympathetically, brushing the hair from her tired eyes. “Well, thank you, baby. That means a lot.”

She smiles, grabbing my hand and kissing it. “Of course. I think I’m gonna start breakfast, since I suddenly have some spare time. I can make blueberry pancakes!” she offers, shimmying playfully.

“Ooh, I _love_ blueberry pancakes. Do it up.”

Safi gets to work with the pancakes while I gather my clothes from the couch. After I dress in last night’s clothes (These are going straight in the washer when I get home. Too much has happened in them for one day.)  I take a look at Safiya in front of her kitchen counter, whipping up pancake mix and putting it into an empty ketchup bottle, then taking it to her stove.

I walk up behind her, wrap my arms around her waist and watch as she squirts the batter into the pan and throws in a few blueberries. I kiss her on the cheek. “Mmm…those look delicious, babe. You always do them like this?”

“it’s just easier. Plus this way I can cobble together pancake art sometimes!”

“It’s the tastiest medium!” I reply, making her giggle.

She makes a short stack for each of us, and I know I have to eat quickly so I can go home and shower, but…

“These are _so_ good, Safi. Can I eat your pancakes forever?”

She snickers. “Later. You got work to do.”

I sulk playfully. “You’re right.” I eat the rest of my last pancake and stand up. “Gotta be fresh!”

She comes up to me, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me on the lips. “I’ll be making du’a for you, honey.” She grips my shoulders firmly and looks me in the eye. “Remember what I told you. Remember what we rehearsed. You got this.”

I nod, taking a breath. “Yeah. I got this.”

8:55 am

We’ve got a bit before it’s time to open, so I need to do this now.

“Hey, guys! I need to talk to y’all for a second before we get started.”

My team gathers in front of the cash register. “First of all, good morning. I just wanted to go over a few things.”

“Is something wrong, Marion?” Micah asks, a worried look on her face.

“Well, no…” Not yet. “I just wanted to give you guys an update on the commission. I met the CEO of Shovels and Soil yesterday, and he is very excited to begin working with us.”

I take a deep breath.

“And, I don’t want to scare anybody, but there is an individual at that company that…’ I pause and try to read the others’ expressions before continuing. “…would rather that we weren’t assisting in this project.”

Mina immediately looks frightened. “There’s a saboteur?!”

I hold up my hands to calm her. “I wouldn’t go that far, Mina. While he’s certainly not happy that we have our fingers in this pie, so to speak, he’s already messed up by making his feelings know to our client, his employer. If he were to try anything he’d have to be _very_ subtle about it, or else get caught.”

“So you’re saying the only thing he _can_ do about it is try to psych us out?” Devon asks, crossing her arms.

I smile and nod vigorously. “Exactly, Devon. I won’t call it psychological warfare, but he might try to discourage us in some way. We can’t let him.” The others nod. “We’re not gonna set out to try to prove him wrong, because then he would be driving our actions. What we _are_ going to do is show him and everyone at Shovels and Soil exactly why it was a good idea to pick us up, right?”

I’m met with a collective “Yeah!” _Nailed it~!_

“Alright.” I rub my hands together. “Showtime, ladies!”

I turn to the door and unlock it for the day.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie tries a bit of sabotage

**Chapter 22**

September 30, 5:50 pm

“I’m a little worried,” I confess to Mina, sweeping the area in front of the cash register.

Mina furrows her brow. “Why? We’ve had a fairly normal couple of days.”

“That’s why I’m worried. I haven’t seen or heard from…our antagonist all day. No calls, no emails, not even a passive aggressive post on Yelp. I’m sure he’s planning something.”

“Don’t sweat it, Boss; it’s 10 to close,” Devon replies, dusting shelves behind me. “If you ask me, if he wanted to do anything he would’ve—”

The door promptly jingles. I spin around to greet the newcomer. “Hi! Welcome to—”

My smile falters as I register the person in front of me.

Robbie.

What is he doing here? What’s he trying to pull?

_Remember what you told the others. Stay focused._

I recover quickly. “W-welcome to Decampe Décor! I’m sorry, but you won’t be able to look at much; we’re actually getting ready to shut down for the night. You’re welcome to—”

“Oh, don’t worry honey; I’ll only be a moment,” he replies.

To the left of me, Mina bristles from hearing him call me that, but still tries to take the initiative. “Erm…is there anything in particular that you’re looking for, sir?”

“Nope! Just looking around.”

“Just looking around” becomes 20 minutes of my uncle wandering around the store, picking up vases, flopping into chairs and putting his feet on the couches, leaving dust on them from outside.

Even though they’re trying to hide it, I can see the others are starting to get twitchy. I have to end this.

“Ah, sir, as I said, you’re welcome to come back tomorrow morning or tomorrow afternoon—”

He looks up at me from the loveseat he’s lounging in and says, levelly, “Why you in such a hurry? I might wanna buy something, but I ain’t gonna be able to do that if you’re rushin’ me. I don’t think that’s any way to treat a customer, do you?”

I bite my tongue and my fist clenches behind my back. “I understand that, sir, but you’ll have plenty of time to look around tomorrow.” 

 “Well, this was the only time I could get out here,” he replies, mock-apologetically.

 _Come on, Marion, find a way out of this._ “We’re open till 5 on Saturdays.” _There we go!_

He looks away, his brow furrowed in thought. He gets up from the couch, finally, and heads towards the door. “Alright. I’ll be back then. I expect better service on Saturday!” He chirps, waltzing out the door. I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and everyone left in the shop does the same as we unglue ourselves from our spots.

“Marion, was that…” Micah begins, staring at the double doors.

I bring my folded hands to my lips and take a shaky breath. “That was the person I was telling you guys about, yes.”

“And he said he’s going to come back tomorrow…” Mina says, worriedly tugging at the sleeve of my jacket.”

Oh.

Oh, _shit_.

I suddenly don’t feel so good.

 “Don’t…don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out,” I lie, swallowing back saliva.

I may have fucked up.

7:30 pm

I’m confused and exhausted after that. I don’t know what my uncle is trying to accomplish with this.

No. Scratch that.

I have two theories.

My first is that this is how he’s going to wear us down: interact with us in a time sensitive situation.

The other, more plausible theory, is that he was trying to get a read on us in general, see what makes us tick.

Either way, he’s not at all slick. Still, I have to be ready, for my team’s sake.

I have a little over twelve hours to mentally prepare myself for whatever is coming, but I don’t want to think about it right now. I need to call Safiya.

“Hi, hon!” she chirps as soon as she picks up.

“Hey…” I reply, trying and failing to pick up my voice even a little.

“You okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“I’m just tired, Safi. My uncle came in to the store at 10 to close today and just wandered around like he owned the place for like 10 minutes, and then when we tried to get him to buy something or leave, he’s all ‘that’s not very good customer service’. The nerve!”

“Oh, sweetie…”

“So, like an idiot, I told him we were open tomorrow. It was the only thing I could think of; I’ve never had anyone come in right before closing and just squat like that.”

She hums sympathetically.

“Worst part is, I can’t throw him out or ban him from the store as long as he’s not breaking anything or openly harassing anybody. He’s probably gonna take me up on tomorrow, and I have no idea how that’s gonna go. There’s gonna be more people there and I just…” I sigh, running my hands through my hair. “I may have thrown away a really good opportunity.”

“You did not,” Safiya replies firmly. “Don’t say that. You did the best you could under the circumstances. He’s playing on your turf, so you still have the upper hand. Saturday will just be another chance to show people that you deserve their business.”

I smile faintly. “I guess so. You’re really great, you know that?”

She chuckles. “I worked at my parents’ shop for a huge chunk of my life; I know a thing or two about pissy customers. Besides, you helped me with Aïda, so I kinda owe you one.”

I snort. “I just bought you a rug and a wall piece.”

“You bought me another way to keep my nosey cousin off my back. I can’t thank you enough for that. I’m still making du’a for you, okay?”

God, she’s amazing.

“I know. I’ll talk to you later; I gotta get my head together. I lo—”

I just stop myself. Oops.

“Hm? Were you gonna say something else?”

“Uhh,no. I just…hiccuped. I’ll see you around.”

“Um, okay. See you!” She kisses the phone.

I hang up and my heart skips a beat. That was way too close. What would she think? You’ve been dating for all of two months; you’re gonna scare her away with that shit.

Still, she is seriously amazing, so it’s not hard to fall in love with someone like her. To think she’s helping me with all this when all I did was buy a rug for her to pray on at my house.

Before I get the chance to think too hard about it, my phone rings. Three guesses as to who it is…

“Hey, Uncle Robbie,” I say flatly.

“Hi Marion! I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting your little shop to be so clean. Looks pretty full though. Are y’all able to keep up?”

“Of course we are. I just got the autumn collections a few weeks ago. The last few have sold out, and I have no reason to believe this season will be any different.”  


He sighs. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Marion?”

“Don’t start…”

“You know what I’m talking about. All this runnin’ around trying to prove to yourself that you can be this big shot, that you don’t need anyone’s protection, and showing those friends of yours to do the same, all the while completely ignoring the fact that your spirit just wants you to settle down and honor your feminine nature.”

“I can be a woman and pursue my dream. I don’t know why you think that’s a problem!”  


“Being a wife and mother and nurturing the next generation of black children isn’t a good enough dream for you? Sounds like you ain’t learned nothin’ from goin’ to school—”

“This conversation is over. Goodbye.” I immediately hang up. A minute later I get a text:

7:50 pm

_I just don’t want a repeat of what happened after you left school. I’ll see you Saturday._

I don’t know what he means by that, but it can’t be good. I turn off my phone without replying and get up to cook dinner. Hopefully it’ll help me clear my head.


End file.
